i 


€ 


iiiir  I        III'         : 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

IN  MEMORY  OF 

Irving  Pichel 


PRESENTED  BY 


Mrs.   Irving  Pichel 


/ 


Cvl/^^w: 


\i<UJi 


THREE  PLAYS 

ISAAC  SHEFTEL 

THE  LAST  JEW 

THE  DUMB  MESSIAH 


BY   DAVID   PINSKI 
THE  TREASURE 

A   DRAMA    IN    FOUR    ACTS 

ONE  DOLLAR 
NEW  YORK:  B.  W.  HUEBSCH 


THREE  PLAYS 

BY 

DAVID  PINSKI 


AUTHORIZED   TRANSLATION    FROM    THE    YIDDISH    BY 

ISAAC  GOLDBERG 


NEW  YORK 

B.  W.  HUEBSCH 

MCMXVIII 


COPYRIGHT.    1918.   BY 
B.  W.  HUEBSCH 


PRINTED  IN  U.  S.  A. 


512.9 


INTRODUCTION 

The  twenty-seven  plays  thus  far  written  by  David 
Pinski  may  be  grouped  according  to  several  distinct  man- 
ners which  the  playwright  has  developed.  Earliest  to 
appear,  as  a  natural  offspring  of  the  proletarian  tales 
that  first  brought  him  fame  as  the  discoverer  of  the 
Jewish  working  class,  was  the  drama  depicting  life 
among  humble  folk.  The  outstanding  example  of  this 
style  is  Isaac  Sheftel,  1899.  With  The  Last  Jew  {Die 
Familie  Zwie),  1903-4,  Pinski  rose  from  his  people's 
sufferings  to  the  vision  of  their  redemption  and  the  psy- 
chological reaction  of  that  vision.  This  phase  of  his 
work  came  to  full  fruition  in  The  Dumb  Messiah,  1911. 
In  one  of  the  greatest  plays  written  in  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury, The  Treasure,  1906,  the  dramatist  glorified  the 
symbolism  and  satire  already  evident  in  The  Last  Jew, 
producing  a  bitter  comedy  that  was  to  have  its  less  acrid 
sequel  in  the  purely  symbolic,  optimistic  Mountain  Climb- 
ers, 1912.  Jacob  the  Blacksmith,  1906,  and  notably 
Gabriel  and  the  Women,  1908,  initiate  the  full-length 
treatment  of  love  and  the  contemporary  sex-problem  that 
had  been  forecasted  in  the  one-act  masterpiece.  For- 
gotten Souls,  1904,  the  most  recent  examples  being  the 
brutally  realistic  Better  Unborn,  1914,  and  the  remark- 
ably concise,  penetrating  Nina  Marden's  Loves,  1915- 
16.  Pinski's  purely  biblical  manner,  as  distinct  from  the 
Messianic  dramas  mentioned  above,  is  most  strikingly 
illustrated  by  a  series  of  five  one-act  plays  written  be- 
tween 1913  and  1915,  King  David  and  his  Wives. 


859341 


vi  INTRODUCTION 

It  would  be  inexact  to  designate  these  various  man- 
ners as  "  periods  "  in  the  progress  of  the  playwright. 
They  do  not  follow  one  another  in  chronological  sequence ; 
once,  indeed,  in  a  single  year,  1906,  three  manners 
appear  in  rapid  succession.  Again,  whatever  Pinski 
writes  possesses  a  vital  contemporary  significance,  so 
that  even  his  biblical  plays,  though  ancient  in  inspiration, 
are  distinctly  modern  in  meaning.  Yet  again,  some 
plays  reveal  a  blending  of  styles ;  Mary  Magdalene, 
1910,  for  instance,  belongs  at  once  to  the  playwright's 
biblical  and  sex-problem  categories. 

When  we  consider  what  a  relatively  large  number  of 
Pinski's  plays  dispense  entirely  with  the  love  interest 
and  in  how  many  others  it  is  a  secondary  element  — 
true,  too,  of  his  tales  —  we  come  to  a  realization  of  his 
chief  significance  to  the  contemporary  drama.  Pinski 
is,  first  of  all,  a  realistic  psychologist.  His  portrait  gal- 
lery is  a  notable  collection  of  seekers,  of  souls  that  have 
lusted  for  power  and  found  themselves  beaten  by  powers 
greater  than  their  own.  Death,  suicide  or  resignation  is 
the  common  lot  of  such  seekers. 

Tille,  Mary,  Gail,  Nina  Marden, —  all  are  spiritual 
sisters  who  seek,  by  divers  means,  to  achieve  dominance. 
Tille  {The  Treasure)  purchases  it  for  a  day  by  a  lie 
that  upsets  the  entire  community  and  exposes  the  hypoc- 
risy that  hides  beneath  religious  garb.  Mary  of  Mag- 
dala  would  triumph  over  Christ  by  the  sheer  voluptuous- 
ness of  her  beauty,  yet  succumbs  to  a  higher  beauty. 
Gail  {Gabriel  and  the  Women')  conquers  her  wayward 
husband  through  patience  and  the  more  homely  virtues 
of  womankind;  she  is  a  modern  Griselda.  For  Nina 
Marden  is  reserved  the  fate  of  corrupting  every  man  she 
seeks  to  inspire;  she  would  employ  her  beauty  to  call 
forth  the  best  in  man,  yet  can  bring  out  only  the  worst. 


INTRODUCTION  V|i 

So,  too,  with  Pinski's  male  protagonists.  Isaac  Shef- 
tel's  intense  will  to  be  and  to  do  crumbles  upon  the 
ruins  of  his  scant  foundations.  His  is  the  tragedy  of 
creative  vision  balked  by  limitations  of  environment  and 
education.  Reb  Mayshe,  also  {The  Last  Jew),  falls 
upon  the  threshold  of  a  vision  never  to  be  seen  by  his 
eyes.  The  soul  of  the  obsessed  Menahem  Penini  (The 
Dumb  Messiah)  founders  likewise  upon  the  rock  of  dis- 
illusionment. 

The  plays  chosen  for  inclusion  in  this  volume  are  ar- 
ranged in  chronological  order. 

Isaac  Sheftel  was  written  from  the  twenty-first  of 
]\Iarch  to  the  seventh  of  April,  1899,  in  Berlin.  The 
actual  time  spent  upon  composition  was  thirteen  days, 
the  last  act  having  been  written  in  seven  hours,  without 
interruption.  The  chief  character  was  suggested  to  the 
dramatist  by  the  strange  figure  of  a  Warsaw  workingman 
who  was  gifted  with  inventive  talent,  yet  sold  his  con- 
trivances to  his  employer  for  a  mere  pittance  in  order 
always  to  be  near  his  beloved  brain  children. 

The  Last  Jew,  known  in  Yiddish  and  in  other  tongues 
as  The  Zwie  Family,  was  first  conceived  in  1900,  but  only 
after  the  Kishinev  anti-Semite  massacre  did  the  back- 
ground and  the  action  suggest  themselves.  The  first 
two  acts  were  written  in  the  summer  of  1903;  the  third 
act  was  composed  on  the  twentieth  of  May,  1904,  the  day 
of  an  examination  at  Columbia  University  where  Pinski 
was  a  post-graduate  student,  which  would  have  led  to  his 
degree  as  Doctor  of  Philosophy.  The  fourth  act  was 
completed  soon  after  the  third,  in  two  or  three  days. 

Peculiar  historic  interest  is  attached  to  the  tragedy. 
It  has  been  given  wherever  there  were  enough  Jews  to 
organize  a  small  theater;  the  one  exception  to  this  is 
New  York,  where  it  has  never  been  given  in  Yiddish  upon 


vlii  INTRODUCTION 

the  legitimate  stage,  although  the  well-known  Russian 
actor,  Orlenev,  produced  it  there  in  Russian  in  1905-6. 
Until  the  period  of  the  first  revolution  it  was  forbidden 
in  Russia;  for  a  while  after  the  revolution  its  presenta- 
tion was  permitted,  but  in  Yiddish  only.  The  tragedy 
was  printed  on  the  thinnest  paper,  sewed  into  coats  and 
smuggled  into  Russia.  Secret  societies  (whence  origi- 
nated the  Yiddish  amateur  stage)  sprang  up  for  the  pur- 
pose of  producing  the  forbidden  play.  One  of  these 
companies  was  caught  red-handed  by  the  government;  so 
effective  was  the  punishment  that  further  production  was 
stifled.  This  official  persecution  followed  the  play  to  the 
Moscow  Art  Theater,  where  the  noted  director,  Stanis- 
lavski,  was  to  produce  it  in  1907.  The  censor  inter- 
dicted the  Russian  version. 

The  play  has  been  given  in  Berlin,  at  the  Schiller 
Theater,  in  a  German  translation.  It  has  been  trans- 
lated into  Hebrew,  and  in  the  Yiddish  original  has  al- 
ready gone  through  thirteen  editions. 

The  Dumb  Messiah  was  composed  in  four  days,  from 
the  twenty -ninth  of  July  to  the  third  of  August,  1911. 
It  followed  fast  upon  Professor  Brenner  (a  beautiful 
study  of  a  mature  intellect  wedded  to  a  youthful  beauty) 
and  was  written  in  that  feverish  glow  that  attends  the 
writing  of  so  many  of  Pinski's  pieces.  He  began  with- 
out a  clear  conception  of  the  action  or  of  even  the  minor 
characters.  Thus,  the  figures  of  Blanche  the  Beggar 
and  Leah  came  into  being  after  the  work  was  begun. 

Isaac  Goldberg. 
Roxbury,  Mass.,  March,  1918. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introduction  by  the  Translator v 

Isaac    Sheftel 1 

The  Last  Jew   [Die  Familie  Zwie]      ....      81 
The  Dumb  Messiah    . 167 


CHRONOLOGICAL  LIST  OF  DAVID  PINSKI'S 

PLAYS 

SuiFerings  * 
Isaac  Sheftel  f 
The  Mother  f 
The  Last  Jew  {Die 

Familie  Zuie)  J   1903-4 
Forgotten  Souls  * 
The  Eternal  Jew  * 
The  Treasure  | 

Jacob  the  Black- 
smith l 

Gabriel  and  the 
Women  f 

With  Banners  of 
Victory  * 

Mary  Magdalene  f 

Professor  Brenner  f 

The  Dumb  Messiah  f  1911 

The   Phonograph*      1918 

Bathsheba,  Michal,  Abigail,  In  the  Harem  and  Abi- 
shag  are  grouped  together  under  the  title  King  David 
and  his  Wives. 


1899 

The  Mountain  Climb 

- 

1899 

ers  I 

1912 

1901 

To  Each  Man  His 

Own  God  f 

1912 

03-4 

Bathsheba  * 

1913 

1904 

Conscience  * 

1913 

1906 

A  Dollar!* 

1913 

1906 

Michal  * 

1914 

Abigail  * 

1914 

1906 

In  the  Harem  * 

1914 

1908 

Better  Unborn  J 

1914 

Abishag  * 

1915 

1908 

Diplomacy  * 

1915 

1910 

Nina  Marden's 

1911 

Loves  1                 1915-16 

1911 

Little  Heroes  * 

1916 

•  One  act.     t  Three  acts,     t  Four  acts. 


ISAAC  SHEFTEL 

A    DRAMA    IN    THREE    ACTS 
[1899] 


Worhingmen  in  Goldin's  factory. 


PERSONS  OF  THE  DRAMA 

Isaac  Sheftel^  a  lace-maker 
Baylye,  his  wife. 

GisHiNKE,  1^;^^.^  children. 
Elinke,     J  - 

PiNYE,  Isaac's  feeble-minded  father. 

NoTTE  GoLDiN,  Isoac's  employer. 

Orke  Goldin,  his  son. 

Old  Michel, 
Red  Berre, 
Funny  Zelig, 
Leivik, 

Sender, 

Hi  LYE, 
YOSHKE, 

^  'yJVorJcingwomen  in  Goldin's  factory. 

■pj  '  \Women  living  with  Isaac's  family. 

^^^^^>\Dohbe's  daughters. 

oOZYE,  J 

Gelye,  Tsippe's  daughter. 
Vichne,  a  shopkeeper 

The  action  takes  place  in  a  large  city  of  the  Jewish 
pale,  Russia,  in  the  early  nineties  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury. 


ACT  I 

Isaac  Sheftel's  cellar-home.  Against  the  right-hand 
wall,  two  wooden  beds,  covered  with  rags.  The 
sheets  over  the  pillows  are  fairly  black  with  dirt, 
and  are  stained  here  and  there  with  yellow  spots, 
the  evidence  of  little  children.  In  the  center  of  the 
room  a  small  four-legged  table,  without  a  table- 
cloth. Three  chairs  are  placed  about  the  table. 
The  red  paint,  which  once  bedecked  the  table  and 
the  chairs,  has  faded  to  a  dirty  gray,  with  here  and 
there  a  red  spot  visible.  The  chair  to  the  left  lacks 
a  back.  Against  the  left  wall,  in  the  foreground, 
stands  a  small  chiffonier,  on  which  are  placed  a 
small  looking  glass,  three  brass  candlesticks,  and  a 
hat  that  was  once  black,  but  has  become  brown  with 
age.  Further  back  from  the  chiffonier,  a  chair, 
placed  nearer  to  the  center  of  the  room.  Nearby, 
the  door  to  Tsippe's  room.  Next  to  the  door,  in 
the  background,  the  large  oven,  with  its  opening 
facing  the  right  wall.  Between  the  oven  and  the 
left  wall  there  is  a  bed  of  boards.  Here  is  discov- 
ered Pinye.  In  the  middle  background  is  the  door 
which  leads  to  the  outer  rooms  and  to  Dobbe's  room. 
When  this  opens  there  is  visible  the  door  to  the 
street.  Between  the  oven  and  the  door  to  the  outer 
rooms  is  a  long,  narrow  kitchen  bench.  Zander  the 
bench  a  bucket.     On  the  bench  a  few  pots.     Above 

3 


t  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  I 

it,  some  shelves,  which  contain  a  copper  pan,  a 
kneading  board,  and  more  pats.  Aside  of  the  bench, 
next  to  the  oven,  stand  fre-forks,  a  baker's  shovel, 
a  broom.  To  the  right  of  the  door,  a  yellow  cup- 
board, somewhat  brighter  at  the  top,  for  the  bottom 
is  covered  with  dust  and  dirt.  A  small  piece  of 
glass  in  the  upper  door  of  the  cupboard  is  the  only 
remnant  of  the  panes  which  were  once  part  of  it. 
The  hole  is  now  stuffed  from  the  inside  with  a 
large  piece  of  blue  paper,  whose  color  is  somewhat 
faded.  Over  the  bed  nearest  the  cupboard  hang 
some  clothes,  covered  with  a  sheet  that  is  gray  with 
dirt  and  threadbare  in  many  places.  At  the  side  of 
this  bed  stands  a  cradle. —  In  the  cellar  there  reigns 
semi-darkness,  as  in  all  cellar  rooms  whose  windows 
are  situated  below  the  sidewalk.  The  windows  are 
dark  with  dirt.  Only  from  the  bright  light  that  be- 
comes greenish  after  it  has  filtered  through  the  dirty 
window  panes,  can  one  recognize  that  outside  the 
life-giving  sun  is  shining.  The  walls,  once  white- 
washed, are  black  with  soot,  and  discolored  from 
mold  and  dampness.  Here  and  there  looks  out  a 
bright  spot,  like  the  sad  eye  of  a  one-eyed  person, 
and  makes  the  impression  all  the  more  melancholy 
by  contrast.  The  ceiling  is  likewise  black  and 
sooty,  and  its  plaster  is  crumbling.  As  to  the  floor, 
it  is  difficult  to  recognize  what  it  is  made  of,  whether 
of  boards,  stone,  or  Mother  Earth  itself.  The 
dominant  note  is  not  so  much  one  of  poverty  — 
which  could  be  covered  over  —  as  of  slovenliness, 
negligence,  xveary  despair  and  hopeless  debasement. 

Isaac  Sheftel  is  seated  at  the  table,  whittling  a  piece 
of  wood.     He  is  a  young  man,  of  about  thirty,  of 


Act  I]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  8 

spare  build,  hollow  cheeks  and  blond  beard.  He 
presses  his  pale,  thin  lips  tightly  together,  often 
biting  the  upper  or  lower  one,  including  his  short 
mustache  as  he  does  so.  His  eyes  are  sunk  deep  be- 
neath thick,  shaggy  eyebrows.  His  gaze  is  thought- 
ful, keen,  penetrating,  and  burns  with  an  inner  fire. 
He  wears  a  coat  that  is  torn  in  the  sleeves  and  at  the 
tails;  it  is  buttoned  only  at  the  bottom,  the  other  but- 
tons being  lacking.  His  shirt,  visible  because  his 
coat  is  unbuttoned  at  the  top,  and  through  the 
holes  in  his  sleeves,  is  unclean,  and  open,  revealing 
a  hairy,  sunken  chest.  His  gray  trousers  are 
patched  at  the  knee  with  cloth  of  a  much  brighter 
color.  The  patches  look  for  all  the  world  like  win- 
dows. At  the  bottom  the  trousers  are  worn  and 
ragged.  His  shoes  are  a  brownish  yellow,  with 
twisted  heels  and  torn  soles.  His  head,  uncovered, 
is  a  mass  of  uncombed,  thick,  dark  brown  hair. — 
Upon  the  table  before  him  is  an  assortment  of 
wheels,  smoothly  whittled  pieces  of  wood,  a  long, 
wide  leg  of  a  machine,  through  which  has  been  thrust 
a  long,  round  stick  with  holes  on  one  side  and  a 
wheel  oin  the  other.  Between  the  wheel  and  the 
stick,  an  axle,  also  perforated.  There  are  on  the 
table  also  a  compass,  a  handsaw,  a  gimlet,  bits  of 
glass,  thread,  etc. 

Baylye  is  seated  upon  the  forward  bed,  holding  in  her 
arms  Elinke,  a  child  of  a  year  and  a  half,  whom  she 
is  nursing.  Baylye  is  about  Isaac's  age;  thin,  flat- 
chested,  unclean,  with  rings  of  unwashed  dirt  about 
her  eyes.  Her  cheap  calico  dress  and  coat  are  in 
tatters,  and  covered  with  patches.  On  her  head  a 
cloth  of  undiscoverable  color.     It  lies  crooked,  and 


6  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  I 

from  underneath,  falls  over  her  forehead  a  shock  of 
chestnut-colored  hair.  Her  shoes  have  been  unpol- 
ished for  many  days.  The  child  at  her  breast  is 
•wearing  a  long  shirt,  much  too  large,  which  has 
been  passed  on  to  him  by  an  older  child. 

PiNYE  is  seated  upon  the  board  bed,  and  stares  vacantly 
into  the  distance  with  an  insane  look.  The  blackish 
gray  beard  around  his  pallid  face  is  thin;  the  hair 
of  both  his  beard  and  his  head  is  falling  out.  On  his 
head,  an  old,  greasy,  torn  hat.  A  cotton  jacket, 
whose  lining  is  almost  all  gone,  covers  his  bare 
body.  Over  the  jacket  a  worn  out  coat.  When  his 
coat  opens,  there  are  visible  the  thick  fringes  of  the 
four-fringed  scarf  worn  by  all  pious  Jews,  and  a 
part  of  his  drawers.  Near  the  rear  bed  sits 
GisHiNKE,  a  little  girl  of  four,  playing  with  her 
doll,  which  is  made  of  a  stick  wound  about  by  a  rag. 
She  is  uncombed,  and,  like  all  the  other  cellar  dwell- 
ers, unclean.  She  is  little  more  than  skin  and  bones, 
in  tatters  and  barefoot.  She  is  talking  to  her  doll: 
"  I'll  dress  you.  .  .  .  Don't  cry.  .  .  .  I'll  hit  you, 
if  you  do!  .  .  .  Give  you  eat  pretty  soon.  .  .  ." 

Near  the  oven,  Dobbe,  a  short,  shriveled-up  woman  of 
fifty-five,  her  shaven  head  covered  by  a  cloth  wig. 
She  is  busy  placing  her  pots  in  the  oven. 

It  is  about  noon.  The  room  is  quiet,  except  for  Isaac's 
heavy  cutting  with  the  knife,  Gishinke's  muttering 
to  her  doll,  and  the  scraping  of  Dobbe's  pots  inside 

\  the  oven,  as  she  moves  them  about  with  the  fire-fork. 
From  Tsippe's  room,  at  intervals,  comes  the  rhyth- 
mic noise  of  a  stocking  machine. 


Act  I]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  * 

Isaac  stops  •whittling,  inspects  the  piece  of  wood  upon 
which  he  has  been  working,  then  the  wheels  that  lie 
on  the  table  before  him.  He  frowns  and  bites  his 
upper  lip. 

Baylye  looks  at  him  inquiringly. —  For  a  time  the  stock- 
ing machine  is  silent. 

PiNYE  [rises  slowly,  wraps  his  cloak  about  him,  stops 
at  Tsippe's  door  and  fixes  his  gaze  upon  it.  Then  he 
walks  over  to  the  table,  looks  at  Isaac's  work,  walks 
back,  observes  Gishinke  for  a  while,  returns  to  the  oven 
and  stands  motionless,  his  gaze  lowered  to  his  bed  of 
boards.  Gradually  he  raises  his  eyes,  stares  into  the 
distance,  and  in  a  sepulchral  voice,  slowly  turning 
about,  he  commences  to  drawV].  All  hea-ven  is-s  dead. 
Ear-earth  is  dead.  God-d  is  d-dead.  E-everything  — 
[Stops  suddenly  and  lowers  his  head."] 

DoBBE  [puts  the  fire-fork  back  in  its  place,  closes  the 
oven  and  grumbles'].  It  refuses  to  bake.  A  fine  fire  they 
must  have  made ! 

Baylye  [with  an  indignant  motion  of  her  head].  It's 
never  hot  enough  for  her ! 

DoBBE  [as  she  goes  out].  And  nobody  can  get  dinner 
ready  here  until  supper-time ! 

Baylye  [casting  an  angry  look  at  Dobbe  as  she 
leaves,  spits  out  scornfully].  The  old  witch! 

PiNYE  [turning  about].  D-dead!  D-dead!  D-dead! 
E-everything.     D-dead !     Ev  — 

Baylye  [angrily].  Stop  your  turning,  will  you!  My 
head  and  my  heart  and  all  my  insides  are  turning  enough 
as  it  is. 

PiNYE  [stops  short  with  a  gaping  mouth,  his  back  to 
Baylye.     He  turns  his  head  to  the  left,  in  Baylye 's  di- 


8  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  I 

rection,  and  listens  to  her  words.  When  she  has  finished, 
he  turns  his  head  back,  lowers  his  gaze  to  the  floor,  and 
goes  slowly  to  his  place  near  the  oven.  He  sits  down 
as  before^. 

SILENCE 

Isaac  [deeply  absorbed  in  his  work,  to  himself]. 
Right  here  is  where  I  strike  my  difficulty.  .  .  .  Now,  if 
I  could  manage  to  put,  right  here.  .  .  . 

Baylye  [venomously].  How  many  times  have  I  got 
to  listen  to  that !  "  Right  here  .  .  .  right  here.  .  .  ." 
And  there's  no  end  to  it  in  sight ! 

Isaac  [wrinkles  his  forehead,  his  right  hand  at  his 
work,  his  left  fist  clenched  against  his  brow,  as  if  in 
deep  thought]. 

Baylye.  A  fine  thing!  Takes  a  vacation  for  himself 
and  doesn't  go  to  work  in  the  factory  already  the  third 
day!  Wants  to  invent  machines!  Such  big  profits  we 
get  from  his  inventions !     Makes  Goldin  rich,  that's  all ! 

Isaac  [eyes  Baylye  from  under  his  left  hand,  as  if 
he  would  like  to  know  what  on  earth  she  is  talking 
abont], 

Baylye.  A  fine  matter!  Three  days'  loafing!  And 
God  knows  if  he's  through  yet! 

Isaac.  If  you'll  keep  gabbing  like  that  all  the  time, 
I'll  certainly  never  get  through. 

Baylye.  I  know.     I'm  only  a  nuisance.     I  .  .  . 

Isaac   [hastily  resumes  work]. 

Baylye  [casts  a  look  of  intense  hatred  at  him,  then 
turns  her  head  to  the  wall.  Elinke  stops  sucking  at  his 
mother's  breast.  Baylye  covers  her  bosom  and  lowers 
the  infant  to  her  lap]. 

Pinye  [as  soon  as  it  is  quiet,  he  begins  to  drawl 
again] .  D-dead !    D-dead !    Empty.  ...  No  more.  .  .  . 


Act  I]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  9 

Baylye.  Sit  there  and  shut  up^  I  tell  you!  Not  a 
word! 

PiNYE  [stops  short,  mouth  agape,  slowly  closing  if]. 

SILENCE 

Isaac  [works  with  nervous  hastel. 

Baylye  [watching  him,  bitterly,  from  the  corner  of 
her  eye]. 

GiSHiNKE  [from  her  place  near  the  cupboard].  Ma! 
What's  here  in  the  saucer?     I  want  to  eat  it. 

Baylye  [angrily,  and  in  fright].  Put  that  saucer  right 
back  where  you  found  it!  How  many  times  have  I  told 
you  not  to  touch  that  saucer  under  the  closet!  It  has 
rat-poison  in  it! 

Gishinke.  Rat-poison,  is  it?  I  want  a  little.  Just 
a  wee  little  piece. 

Baylye  [jumps  to  her  feet,  holding  Elinke  in  her 
left  arm,  and  runs  over  to  Gishinke].  Put  that  saucer 
right  back,  I  tell  you!  [Tears  a  piece  of  the  poison  out 
of  Gishinke's  hand,  throws  it  back  into  the  plate,  thrusts 
the  saucer  under  the  closet  with  her  foot,  and  spanks 
Gishinke  over  the  hands.] 

Gishinke.  Ow!     Ow! 

Baylye  [pushing  her  away  from  the  closet].  That's 
poison.  People  die  from  it.  I'll  kill  you  if  you  ever 
touch  that  saucer  again.  Sit  down  on  the  bed  and  be 
quiet  or  else  go  out  into  the  street.  [Goes  back  to  her 
place.]  She  noses  about  everywhere.  She'll  poison 
herself  before  you  know  it. 

Tsippe  [enters  from  the  door  which  leads  outside. 
She  is  a  woman  of  some  fifty  years.  She  carries  two 
baskets,  filled  with  apples  and  pears.  She  passes  to  her 
room.     She  wears  a  smooth  wig,  which  lies  crooked  upon 


10  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  I 

her  head;  a  calico  dress  and  jacket,  tvith  a  belt  from 
which  hangs  a  leather  pocket^. 

GiSHiNKE  [busy  with  her  doll].  I'll  go  into  the  street. 

Baylye.  To  the  devil,  for  all  I  care.  [Gishinke 
takes  her  doll  and  goes  owf.]  Don't  run  around  too 
much,  or  get  into  a  scrap,  or  I'll  whip  the  skin  off  your 
back !  [Her  gaze  turns  from  Gishinke  to  the  clip- 
board, she  kneels  down  to  the  floor  and  shoves  the  saucer 
further  under  the  closet. ~\  It's  I  who  ought  to  swal- 
low the  poison.  And  put  an  end  to  my  wretched  exist- 
ence.     [She  sits  down  again  in  her  place.] 

TsipPE  [enters  from  her  room.  She  has  put  away 
her  baskets,  but  the  leather  pocket  still  hangs  from  her 
belt;  she  goes  to  the  oven,  takes  out  a  pot,  looks  into  it 
and  adds  a  little  water].  Hm!  It's  still  raw!  There 
you  are!  [Puts  the  pot  back  into  the  oven  and  returns 
to  her  room.] 

Baylye.  There's  another  hot-head  for  you!  [She 
puts  Elinke  into  bed  and  goes  to  the  oven.  The  child 
begins  to  cry.]  Have  a  look  here,  will  you,  Isaac? 
Just  have  a  look  I  That  old  hag  went  out  and  changed 
the  pots  all  around  until  ours  is  'way  in  the  corner  and 
hers  is  right  over  the  hottest  part.  Just  take  a  look,  will 
you,  Isaac?  She'll  drop  dead  before  I'll  let  her  get 
away  with  that  I      [Busies  herself  with  the  oven.] 

Isaac  [pondering  over  his  work].  It's  bad.  Nothing 
will  come  of  it  all. 

Baylye  [putting  back  the  f re-fork].  Now!  Her  din- 
ner can  get  ready  with  her  pot  over  there,  too.  [Re- 
turns to  her  place  with  an  air  of  satisfaction  and  takes 
the  infant  into  her  arms  again.  With  a  voice  full  of 
hatred.]  And  you,  bawling  all  the  time!  I  can't  put 
him  off  my  arms  for  a  minute.      [Sits  down  and  seats  the 


Act  I]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  11 

child  in  her  lap,  angrily.  The  child  falls  asleep  at 
once.} 

Isaac  [leaves  his  work  to  pace  about  the  room.  He 
bites  his  lips,  pressing  them  against  his  teeth  with  the 
index  finger  of  his  right  hand.  His  left  hand  he 
passes  across  his  forehead  and  through  his  hair]. 

Baylye  [watches  him,  ironically],  "  Right  here  .  .  . 
riffht  here."  Ha-ha !  —  It'll  be  a  matter  of  ten  months, 
like  with  your  press.  Hm.  .  .  .  That's  if  anything  at 
all  comes  out  of  all  this  fussing.  ..."  Right  here  .  .  . 
right  here.  ..."  A  fine  state  of  things.  Goes  and 
gives  himself  a  vacation! 

Isaac  [suddenly  stopping].  Perhaps  you'll  stop  talk- 
ing some  time?      [Continues  pacing  about.] 

Baylye.  You'll  stuff  my  mouth,  I  suppose,  so  that  I 
can't  even  say  a  word,  eh  ?  Well,  then  —  go  ahead. 
Stuff  it!  Here  it  is,  stuff  it!  [Mocking  him.]  "  Per- 
haps you'll  stop  talking  some  time!  "  I'm  a  fool  that  I 
should  merely  talk!  I  ought  to  take  all  these  contrap- 
tions of  yours  and  smash  them  to  splinters.  That  would 
spare  me  all  my  talk,  once  and  for  all ! 

Isaac  [grits  his  teeth,  furrows  his  forehead  and  con- 
tinues his  nervous  walking  to  and  fro]. 

Baylye.  Why,  anybody  I'd  tell  this  to  would  call  me 
crazy  to  put  up  with  it!  Did  you  ever  see.''  Takes  a 
holiday  for  himself  and  stays  out  from  work  for  three 
days!  If  there  were  only  some  chance  of  making  a 
profit  from  it  all,  it  wouldn't  be  so  bad.  Not  on  your 
life,  though !  He  worked  on  that  press  of  his  for  ten 
months,  night  after  night  —  and  what  did  he  get  out  of 
it?  A  measly  twenty  roubles,  and  made  Goldin  rich! 
And  what  did  you  get  from  that  braiding-machine? 
Wasted  gallons  of  kerosene  —  that's  all. 


13  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  I 

Isaac  \_goes  over  to  the  table,  takes  hold  of  the  wheel 
and  leans  his  knee  against  the  chair^. 

Baylye  [somewhat  more  calmly].  If  you  see  that  you 
can't  make  it  work,  throw  it  to  the  devil,  and  an  end  to 
the  story.  And  you  go  back  to  work.  Not  kill  three 
days  — 

Isaac  [begins  to  pace  about  as  before^. 

SILENCE 

NoTTE  GoLDiN  [enters  from  the  street.  He  is  past 
middle  age,  wears  ear-locks,  a  wide  beard,  and  thick, 
closely-cropped  mustache.  On  his  head  a  velvet  hat. 
His  trousers,  boots  and  dark  jacket  are  stained  with 
greasy  spots.  The  jacket  is  buttoned  at  the  top  and  over 
it  is  a  long,  unbuttoned  black  coat,  with  long,  wide 
pockets;  a  white  wing  collar.  On  his  collar  is  the  black 
ribbon  from  which  hangs  his  watch.  The  watch  is  also 
attached  to  a  heavy,  silver  chain,  which  is  visible  through 
the  open  coat.  He  keeps  his  hands  in  his  pockets  most 
of  the  time  and  as  he  speaks,  calmly  or  excitedly,  he 
drags  and  pulls  and  thrusts  his  coat-tails  about.  His 
face  bears  an  excited  expression,  his  speech  is  angry, 
and  only  rarely  does  he  look  straight  into  the  face  of  the 
person  he  is  addressing]. 

Isaac  [when  he  notices  Goldin  he  shudders  nerv- 
ously]. 

Baylye  [looks  triumphantly  at  Isaac  as  if  to  say, 
"I  told  you  so!"]. 

GoLDiN.  Well,  well.  You're  having  a  nice  prome- 
nade, I  see. 

Baylye  [ironically].  That's  his  way  of  thinking  out 
his  deep  problems. 

Goldin  [to  Isaac].  And  you've  been  thinking  in  this 
manner  for  the  past  three  days? 


Act  I]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  13 

Baylye.  There  on  the  table  you  can  see  the  result  of 
all  his  marvelous  brainwork.  \^She  picks  up  the  wheels 
and  the  sticks  and  drops  them  one  by  one  back  upon 
the  table.^ 

GoLDiN  [goes  over  to  the  table  and  surveys  the  work]. 

Isaac  [walks  over  to  the  table,  looks  at  Goldin's  hand 
Xinth  the  same  absorbed  thought  as  before,  but  with  an 
expression  of  vexation  at  Goldin's  interference]. 

GoLDiN.  And  what  do  you  call  this? 

Isaac.  A  machine. 

GoLDiN.  A  machine!  Indeed!  I  can  see  for  myself 
that  it  isn't  a  kneading  board.     What  kind  of  machine? 

Baylye.  May  he  know  as  much  about  his  brains,  as 
he  himself  can  tell  of  the  machine.  He  stands  there, 
puttering  and  puttering  about  and  .  .  . 

GoLDiN.  Surely  you  must  know  what  you're  making. 
What  sort  of  a  contrivance  is  It?     A  tassel-machine? 

Isaac.  So  you  know,  then. 

GoLDiN.  Does  it  cost  you  money  to  talk? 

Isaac  [takes  the  work  out  of  Goldin's  hands  and  be- 
gins to  put  certain  things  together]. 

GoLDiN  [looks  on  inquiringly]. 

Baylye.  That's  just  how  he's  been  sitting  there  the 
whole  three  days,  and  it's  all  you  can  do  to  get  a  word 
out  of  him.  Early  Simday  morning  he  jumped  out  of 
bed ;  a  precious  idea  had  come  to  him !  He  didn't  wash 
himself,  and  even  forgot  to  say  his  prayers.  He  went 
straight  to  work.  He's  just  as  crazy  as  his  old  father. 
When  he  takes  a  notion  into  his  head  .  .  . 

GoLDiN.  But  ...  he  always  used  to  carry  on  his  ex- 
periments at  night  —  how  did  it  enter  his  head  to  do  it 
by  day,  and  not  to  come  to  work? 

Baylye.  May  I  know  as  much  of  his  life,  as  I  know 
of  that!     Day  and  night  alike  for  the  past  three  days, 


U  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  1 

he  sits  there,  poking  away,  whittling  and  contriving, 
contriving  and  whittling.  You  can't  tear  him  away  from 
the  spot.  There'd  be  half  an  excuse  if  he  only  had  any 
profit  from  it  all.  But  we  know  already  the  great  for- 
tunes he  made  on  his  first  two  inventions. 

GoLDiN.  Well,  I  didn't  ask  him  to  make  them.  It's 
better  for  me  if  he's  at  his  bench,  working.  I'm  piled 
up  with  orders  now,  and  here  his  bench  must  be  empty. 
He  doesn't  want  to  work?  All  right  then,  settled.  So 
I  know,  and  I  get  a  man  in  his  place.  And  that  re- 
minds me.  I  came  here  expressly  to  tell  you  that  unless 
you  come  back  to  work  this  very  forenoon,  I'll  give  your 
job  to  another  fellow.  I  can't  lose  any  time  waiting. 
My  customers  don't  wait  for  me  either. 

Baylye.  There!  I  knew  his  machines  would  bring 
us  to  this! 

GoLDiN  Isurveys  the  worJc  in  Isaac's  hand}.  Well, 
what'll  it  be?  Really  a  machine  for  tassels?  [With 
impudent  curiosity  he  takes  the  work  from  Isaac's  hand.] 
Let's  see  what  you're  making,  anyway. 

Isaac  [with  repressed  agony].  You  can't  understand 
anything  about  it.     You'll  see  when  it's  all  finished. 

GoLDiN.  Then  you  really  expect  to  finish  it  some- 
time? 

Baylye.  Sure.  .  .  .  When  the  Messiah  comes.  It'll 
be  a  long  drawn  out  affair  like  the  press  .  .  . 

GoLDiN.  Well,  you've  heard  what  I  said.  For  my 
part,  let  it  take  as  long  as  two  presses.  It's  no  worry 
of  mine. 

Baylye.  I  know  it's  not  your  worry.  Why  should  it 
be?  The  machine  will  sooner  or  later  belong  to  you, 
anyway. 

GoLDiN  [turns  toward  Pinye,  hears  Baylye's  words, 
and  makes  a  gesture  as  if  to  answer  her;  then  he  puts 


Act  I]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  IS 

his  right  hand  in  his  pocket,  smacks  his  lips,  and  rolls 
his  eyes,  as  if  to  say,  "  Bah!  What's  the  use  of  talk- 
ing to  a  woman? "  Then  he  asks'] :  Well^  how  are 
things  with  you,  Pinye? 

PiNYE  [looks  at  GoLDiN,  and  commences  to  speak 
slowly].  All  heaven  is  dead.  Earth  is  dead.  God  is 
dead  .  .  . 

GoLDiN.  Hush  !  Hush !  Pah !  What  kind  of  words 
are  these? 

Baylye.  For  us,  God  really  has  died. 

GoLDiN  [excited].  Wha  —  Wha  —  What  kind  of 
words  are  these?     How  can  a  person  talk  that  way? 

Baylye.  What  of  it?     It  makes  no  difference. 

GoLDiN.  Tf u !  Upon  my  word !  How-how-how  .  .  . 
Oh,  well!  You  see.  .  .  .  That's  why  God  punishes 
you.  .  .  . 

Baylye  [wipes  her  eyes  with  the  corner  of  her 
jacket].  This  way  or  that  way,  it's  all  one.  Our  life  is 
done  for,  anyway. 

GoLDiN  [shaking  his  head  and  shrugging  his  shoul- 
ders]. Well!  [Goes  to  the  door.]  I  warn  you  once 
more,  I'll  not  wait  much  longer.  If  you  don't  come 
back  to  your  work  this  forenoon,  I'll  put  another 
man  in  your  place.  ...I.  ..I...  I...  Well! 
[Kisses  the  masuzah  *  and  goes  out.] 

SILENCE 

Baylye.  That's  what  it'll  come  to.  He'll  give  your 
job  to  another  man  and  we'll  be  left  without  a  piece  of 
bread. 

*  A  little  tin-box  containing  selections  from  the  Scriptures  written 
upon  a  piece  of  parchment.  It  is  nailed  on  the  door-post  iu  the  houses 
of  all  orthodox  Jews. 


16  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  I 

Isaac.  That's  it!  Keep  on  complaining!  He  won't 
give  my  place  to  anybody  else. 

Baylye  [sarcastically].  Of  course  he  won't!  He 
can't  run  the  factory  without  you !  He  needs  you  badly ! 
How  can  he  possibly  do  without  you? 

Isaac  [raising  his  gaze  to  her,  suffering,  but  firm]. 
All  right  then.  So  he  will  put  another  fellow  in  my 
place.  And  now  stop  plaguing  me.  I'll  soon  be 
through.     Be  quiet  for  a  moment,  at  least. 

Baylye  [wiping  her  eyes  and  talking  to  herself].  A 
man  goes  and  withdraws  himself  from  the  rest  of  the 
world  and  it  doesn't  bother  him  a  hair's  worth. 

SILENCE 

PiNYE  [begins  to  walk  slowly  about  the  room,  stop- 
ping a  few  times.  He  looks  now  at  the  floor,  now  into 
the  distance,  now  about  him,  and  then  walks  on.  At 
length  he  comes  to  a  stop  near  the  chiffonier,  looks  it 
over  for  a  while  and  turns  his  bach  to  the  oven.  He 
directs  his  gaze  again  to  the  floor  and  drawls].  Dead. 
Heaven.     Earth.     The  whole  world  — 

Baylye  [weeping  to  herself].  If  it  were  only  true  — 
and  an  end  to  our  misery. 

PiNYE  [continuing].  And  God. 

Baylye  [makes  a  gesture  of  despair], 

PiNYE.  Everything  is  dead. 

Baylye.  It's  worse  with  me  than  with  a  dead  person. 

PiNYE.  Everything.     Dead. 

Baylye.  Nobody  must  bear  in  hell  what  I  endure 
here. 

PiNYE.  Dead.     Dead. 

Baylye.  If  only  the  Almighty  would  take  me  to  Him, 
then  I'd  really  know  that  there  is  a  God  on  earth. 


Act  I]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  11 

PiNYE.  Dead,     E-e-every thing. 

Baylye.  Then  I  should  feel  as  if  I  were  delivered.  .  .  . 

Isaac  [pale,  agitated,  breathing  hard,  groaning].  Oh! 
Be  quiet  for  a  moment  at  least.  Be  quiet!  [Places 
both  hands  despairingly  upon  the  edge  of  the  table;  his 
eyes  express  the  deepest  agony  —  soon  he  presses  his 
forehead  with  both  hands,  leaning  with  his  elbows  on 
the  table.l 

PiNYE  [raises  his  head,  cocks  his  left  ear  in  Isaac's 
direction  and  listens  to  his  outcries  with  curiosity.  Then 
he  lowers  his  head  as  if  pondering  over  something,  and 
returns  slowly  to  his  place], 

SILENCE 

Baylye  [dries  her  eyes], 

[From  the  next  room  comes  the  groaning  and  moan- 
ing of  the  stocking-machine.] 

VicHNE  [enters.  She  is  a  woman  of  about  ffty,  in 
a  bright  calico  jacket,  from  under  which  is  visible  an- 
other one  of  darker  color.  She  wears  a  wide  apron,  and 
is  covered  zvith  stains  from  flour,  kerosene  and  oil.  On 
her  head,  a  smooth  black  wig  from  beneath  which  here 
and  there  falls  some  of  her  own  hair,  already  gray.  Over 
her  large  mouth  plays  a  sweet  smile,  and  her  eyes  dart 
about  in  every  direction.  She  holds  her  left  hand  in  a 
leather  pocket  which  hangs  under  her  apron,  and  she 
shakes  her  coi7is].  Good  morning  to  you! 

Baylye  [gloomily].  Good  year  to  you,  Vichnetshka. 

VicHNE.  I  was  in  to  see  Dobbe.  So  I  said  to  myself, 
"  Well,  as  long  as  I'm  already  here,  I  must  step  in  to 
have  a  look  at  Baylye."     What's  the  news.'' 

Baylye.  News.     Ah ! 

VicHNE  [sits  down  on  the  chair  to  the  left  of  the 
table].  And  how  goes  it  with  his  work.-* 


19  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  I 

Baylye.  May  I  know  as  little  about  him  as  I  know 
about  that. 

ViCHNE  [taking  one  of  Isaac's  hands  down  from  his 
forehead'}.  I  say,  Mr.  Sheftel,  won't  you  even  look  at 
me .''     Don't  you  look  upon  women  ? 

Isaac  [makes  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  smile.  He 
tries  to  free  his  hand], 

ViCHNE  [looks  at  him  closely  and  releases  his  hand]. 

Isaac  [arises  and  paces  about  the  room]. 

ViCHNE  [changes  seats,  taking  the  one  Isaac  has  just 
left.  Then  in  a  subdued  voice  to  Baylye].  Why  is  he 
so  downcast? 

Baylye.  Yes,  why  is  he?     The  lunatic! 

ViCHNE.  To  tell  the  truth,  he  does  seem  a  bit  de- 
ranged. 

Baylye.  He's  plain  crazy,  just  like  his  father.  When 
he  takes  anything  into  his  head  he  gets  so  wild  over  it, 
so  bewildered,  that  he  doesn't  know  whether  he's  in  this 
world  or  the  next.  WTien  he's  in  such  a  state  neither 
fire  nor  earthquake  can  make  any  impression  on  him. 

ViCHNE  [observing  Isaac  as  he  paces  about].  You'll 
wear  out  your  shoes,  Isaac. 

Baylye.  A  lot  he  cares. 

Isaac  [engrossed  in  thought].  The  shoes  aren't  worth 
anything  anyway. 

ViCHNE.  Even  if  you're  thinking  out  a  new  invention, 
you've  got  to  be  a  man  just  the  same.  [To  Baylye.] 
Banker  Maggidson's  son  is  an  inventor,  too.  He's  an 
engineer  —  studied  at  Moscow,  and  all  his  professors 
said  that  he  was  simply  a  wonder !  —  Ah !  He's  got  a 
terribly  smart  head  on  his  shoulders.  And  the  machines 
that  he  invents,  they  say,  are  .  .  .  why,  enough  to  drive 
a  person  mad.     And  he's  strong  and  stout  —  and  I  only 


Act  I]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  19 

wish  all  my  good  friends  had  such  red  cheeks.  I  tell 
you  —  all  milk  and  blood !  And  his  inventions  are  a 
little  better  than  Isaac's,  I'll  wager!  He  gets  tens  of 
thousands  of  roubles  for  them.  .  .   . 

Baylye.  Where's  the  wonder,  where?  The  fellow 
had  a  college  education. 

VicHNE.  No,  I  mention  all  this  to  show  that  some  peo- 
ple can  think  up  machines  without  getting  bewildered 
and  upset,  and  can  be  persons  just  like  any  other. 

Baylye  [sarcastically'].  You  hit  upon  the  right  one  to 
talk  to.  [Nodding  toward  Isaac]  Do  you  call  him  a 
man,  too? 

VicHNE  [surveying  the  work  on  the  table].  Is  there 
at  least  a  good  piece  of  money  in  it  for  him? 

Baylye.  A  good  piece,  indeed !  A  fine  piece  of  money 
he'll  get!  He'll  carry  it  to  Goldin,  and  take  whatever 
he's  offered. 

VicHNE  [to  Isaac].  If  that's  the  case,  Isaac,  begging 
your  pardon,  you're  really  not  much  of  a  man  at  that. 

Isaac  [paces  about  without  saying  a  word]. 

VicHNE  [to  Baylye].  Not  much  of  a  man  at  all- 
How  can  a  person  be  like  that?  If  Goldin  offers  a  low 
price,  let  him  take  his  machine  to  Bashkevitz  or  Levine. 

Baylye.  There !  That's  exactly  what  we've  all  been 
telling  him.  "  Take  it  in  to  Bashkevitz  or  Levine,"  we 
urged.  "  Why  must  you  give  it  to  Goldin?  "  But  he  — 
no  use.  He  must  have  his  machines  near  him.  He 
works  in  Goldin's  place,  so  his  machines  must  be  there, 
too.     He  can't  part  with  them. 

Isaac  [stops.  Places  his  right  hand  on  his  forehead. 
Then  he  hurries  over  to  the  table,  shoves  all  the  wheels 
and  sticks  to  the  left,  sits  down  and  resumes  work. — 
VicHNE  and  Baylye  follow  him  with  their  eyes]. 


20  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  I 

ViCHNE.  That's  the  way.  Brace  up.  Be  a  man. 
Sit  down  to  your  work,  finish  it,  and  see  to  it  that  you 
get  a  proper  price  for  it.  What  do  you  care  where  the 
machine  goes.''  The  money '11  come  in  handy,  you  may 
be  sure.  Then  you  can  pay  me  the  bill  that  you  owe. — 
Do  you  know  that  it  amounts  to  six  roubles  already  ? 

Baylye    [frightened].  Six  roubles? 

VicHNE.  Yes,  yes.  Six  roubles.  What  did  you 
think?  A  week  ago  Monday,  do  you  remember,  it  was 
four  roubles  and  seventeen  kopecks.  Do  you  remem- 
ber? 

Baylye.  And  already  six  roubles,  now! 

VicHNE.  What  do  you  think?  And  I  wanted  to  say, 
too,  that  it's  time  I  saw  a  couple  of  roubles.  And 
pretty  soon,  too.  Because  it'll  soon  be  seven  roubles 
and  eight.  .  .  .  Vichne  is  a  good  woman,  of  course,  but 
even  Vichne  will  soon  lose  patience.  I  haven't  yet 
robbed  a  bank.  [To  Isaac]  Now  if  I  were  an  inventor 
of  machines,  I  might  invent  a  money-machine,  but  as 
it  is  .  .  . 

Baylye  [observes  Isaac,  who  is  working  away  in- 
tently, apparently  oblivious  to  the  conversation].  You 
see  for  yourself.  There  he  sits,  and  doesn't  even  know 
we're  here  talking. 

Vichne.  He  hears,  you  may  be  sure.  [Slaps  Isaac 
on  the  shoulder.]  That's  the  idea.  Work  away,  make 
a  first-class  machine,  get  a  pile  of  money  for  it  and 
settle  your  account  with  me.  [Arising.]  W^ell,  I'll 
have  to  be  going  now.  I've  been  away  from  the  store 
for  quite  a  while.  I  step  in  for  a  few  moments  here, 
another  little  while  there,  and  that's  how  the  time  flies. 
Well,  a  good  day  to  you! 

Baylye.  A  good  year  to  you,  Vichnetshka! 

Vichne   [shaking  Isaac].  A  good  day  to  you,  Isaac. 


Act  I]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  21 

Answer  a  lady,  can't  you,  when  she  bids  you  good  day ! 
Isaac,  A  good  day  to  you,  Vichne,  a  good  day. 
ViCHNE.  Well,  good  day.  [Ea;it.] 

SILENCE 

Baylye  [drying  her  eyes].  Six  roubles  already. — 
She'll  soon  stop  giving  us  on  trust.  It's  mighty  kind  of 
her  that  she's  let  the  bill  run  up  as  high  as  it  is. — 
[Ready  to  weep.]  And  now  you  may  lose  your  job, 
too.      [Bursts  into  tears.] 

SILENCE 

Isaac  [works  away  nervously]. 

Baylye   [gradually  calms  down]. 

GisHiNKE  [comes  running  in  from  the  street].  Ma! 
I  want  to  eat.  [Baylye  dries  her  eyes.  Gishinke 
pulls  her  by  the  skirt.]  I  want  to  eat.  Give  me  some- 
thing to  eat. 

Baylye  [thrusting  her  away].  Away  from  me! 

Gishinke  [frightened].  I  want  to  eat. 

Baylye.  All  right.  Under  the  closet  there's  the 
saucer  of  poison.  Take  it,  eat  it,  and  let  me  be  rid  of 
you  once  and  for  all. 

Gishinke.  I  don't  want  poison.  I  want  to  eat.  Poi- 
son is  for  rats.  Give  me  something.  I  want  a  piece  of 
bread.      [Pulls  Baylye's  skirt  again.] 

Baylye.  Away  from  me,  do  you  hear!  [Thrusts  her 
away.     Gishinke  falls,  and  bursts  into  loud  crying.] 

Isaac  [ceases  working.  He  is  pale,  agitated,  and 
casts  an  angry  look  at  Baylye.  He  arises,  goes  to  the 
cupboard,  takes  out  bread,  cuts  off  a  slice  and  gives  it  to 
Gishinke].  Here,  Gisliinke,  and  don't  you  cry.  We'll 
soon  have  dinner.     Get  up,  like  a  good  little  girl,  and 


22  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  I 

don't  you  cry.  [He  lifts  her  up  and  goes  hack  to  his 
place.  For  a  time  he  buries  his  face  in  both  his  hands. 
Then  he  resumes  his  work.^ 

GisHiNKE  [in  one  hand  the  slice  of  bread,  her  other 
hand  on  her  head,  goes  over  to  Isaac,  leans  against  his 
knee,  and  between  her  sobs  eats  the  bread]. 

Baylye  [dries  her  eyes,  her  head  turned  to  the  wall]. 
She'll  cry  worse  than  that  yet,  when  there'll  be  nothing 
at  all  left  to  eat.  Oh,  what  a  life,  what  a  life !  [Breaks 
out  into  lamentation.] 

Isaac  [at  first  he  applies  himself  nervously  to  his 
work,  then  he  drops  it  with  a  loud  bang,  leaning  back 
against  the  chair,  looking  vacantly  before  him  into  the 
distance,  tired,  exhausted,  his  hands  thrust  into  his 
trousers  pockets], 

Baylye  [restrains  her  weeping  and  dries  her  eyes]. 

GisHiNKE  [has  ceased  crying,  and  is  now  quietly  eat- 
ing her  bread]. 

SILENCE 

GisHiNKE.  Shall  we  soon  have  dinner?  [Isaac  is 
silent.]      Pa,  shall  we  soon  have  dinner? 

Isaac  [straightens  up].  Yes,  Gishinke,  yes.  [Be- 
gins to  work  once  more.] 

SILENCE 

Gishinke.  Pa,  are  you  making  a  machine?  —  Are 
you  making  a  good  machine  ?  —  Will  the  wheels  turn  ?  — 
Will  you  show  it  to  me?  [Takes  hold  of  the  long  stick 
with  the  holes  in  it.]      What's  this,  pa? 

Isaac.  Let  it  stay  there.     Don't  touch  anything. 

Gishinke.  Is  this  a  machine,  too?      [Eats  her  bread.] 

SILENCE 


Act  I]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  23 

GiSHiNKE.  And  shall  we  soon  have  dinner? 

Isaac.  Yes,  Gishinke,  yes.     And  do  keep  still. 

Baylye  [angrily].  Go  away  from  him!  What  are 
you  bothering  him  for  ? 

GisHiNKE  [stands  for  a  moment  sullenly,  and  then 
goes  away  from  Isaac.  She  picks  up  her  rag-doll,  sits 
down  on  the  floor  near  her  father,  and  talks  to  her  doll]. 
We'll  soon  have  dinner.  ...  Ill  give  you  some,  too. 
.  .  .  But  you  must  be  quiet.  .  .  .  [Soon  she  arises  and 

goes  out.] 

SILENCE 

TsiPPE  [appears  at  her  door,  stops,  and  speaks  to 
some  one  in  her  room].  It  must  be  ready  by  now.  I 
can't  wait  any  longer.  [Goes  to  the  oven,  opens  it,  and 
is  about  to  thrust  in  a  fire-fork.]  What's  this !  Who's 
been  here  now?  [Casts  a  venomous  glance  in  Baylye's 
direction.]  What  do  you  say  to  that!  I  tell  you,  it's  — 
[Busying  herself  about  the  oven.]  May  the  hands  of 
the  one  who  did  this  be  paralyzed,  Lord  of  the  Universe ! 
That's  a  gall  that  it  would  be  hard  to  meet  anywhere! 
To  go  and  purposely  shove  my  pot  'way  out  in  front. 
How  am  I  going  to  have  it  ready?  I've  got  to  be  going 
right  away  and  here  the  meat  hasn't  even  begun  to  cook. 
[Puts  down  the  fire-fork.]  I'd  just  like  to  know  whose 
work  that  was ! 

Baylye  [with  heat].  And  what  do  you  mean  by  shov- 
ing all  the  pots  aside  and  putting  yours  right  in  the  hot- 
test part  of  the  oven?  Do  you  think  that  the  next  per- 
son's meat  mustn't  be  cooked  just  as  well  as  your  own? 
Aren't  we  supposed  to  have  dinner,  too? 

TsippE  [with  piercing  irony,  shaking  her  head].  Ah, 
Baylinke,  Baylinke !  One  must  have  the  heart  of  a 
robber.  .  .  . 


24  ISAAC  SHJEFTEL  [Act  I 

Gelye  [appears'  at  Tsippe's  door.  She  is  a  young 
lady  of  some  twenty-five  years,  in  an  unbuttoned  white 
blouse.  An  unfinished  stocking  in  her  hand].  What's 
up?     More  trouble? 

TsippE.  Do  you  imagine  the  dinner's  ready  yet?  Not 
a  bit  of  it!  It  hasn't  even  started  to  cook.  And  where 
do  you  think  our  pot  was  standing  all  this  time?  Just 
come  here,  and  take  a  look.  I  open  up  the  oven  —  and 
there  I  find  my  pot  'way  in  front.   .  .  . 

Baylye  [arises  and  places  Elinke  in  the  cradle. 
Elinke  commences  to  cry;  Baylye  rocks  him].  And 
that's  where  I'll  always  put  it.  Other  people  are  per- 
sons, too,  and  they  need  to  eat  as  well  as  you. 

DoBBE  [enters].  What  kind  of  a  pot  fight  do  you  call 
this? 

TsippE.  Why,  just  listen.  Here  I  must  be  going 
right  away, —  and  I  come  to  the  oven,  you  understand, 
and  I  see  my  pot  standing  — 

Baylye  [runs  over  to  Dobbe].  She  goes  and  shoves 
all  the  other  pots  aside,  and  puts  her  own  in  the  best 
place.  .  .  .  [Runs  back  to  the  cradle  and  continues  to 
rock.] 

Dobbe  [goes  to  the  oven  and  opens  it].  Look  at  this, 
will  you !  My  pot's  right  near  the  oven-door !  I  sup- 
pose mine  doesn't  need  to  cook  at  all ! 

Baylye  [pointing  to  Tsippe].  Ask  her.  She  was  just 
now  at  the  oven. 

TsiPPE  [with  heat].  I  didn't  touch  your  pot.  May  I 
live  so  .   .   . 

Baylye  [leaving  the  cradle.  To  Dobbe].  You 
should  have  seen.  She  shoved  all  the  pots  aside.  .  .  . 
[Goes  back  to  the  cradle.] 

Gelye.  And  suppose  she  did  put  her  pot  right  over 
the  burning  coals?     What  then?     She  must  go  away, 


Act  I]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  25 

and  you're  always  at  home.  You  don't  have  to  bring 
Isaac  dinner  to-day.  [Ironically.]  He's  at  home  too 
busy  with  his  machines. 

Baylye  [returning  excitedly  near  to  the  cradle,  push- 
ing back  her  hair,  and  tying  her  head  covering  better 
about  her  neck].  Other  people  are  persons  too.  They 
need  to  eat  as  well  as  you!  [To  Gelye.]  And  his  ma- 
chines are  none  of  your  business,  I'll  have  you  under- 
stand. 

DoBBE  [busy  •with  her  pot].  All  I  know  is  that  my 
pot  hasn't  even  begun  to  cook. 

Gelye  [sarcastically].  Just  see  how  indignant  she 
became  because  somebody  said  a  word  about  her  hus- 
band's machines. 

Baylye.  You've  got  no  business  talking  about  my 
husband's  machines. 

Gelye.  Really !  Well !  Well !  [From  the  rear  door 
there  enter  Hinde  and  Sozye  tenth  sewing  in  their  hands. 
HiNDE  is  a  girl  of  twenty-one,  Sozye  is  seventeen. 
Hinde  is  attractively  combed.  Her  black  waist,  "with 
white  polka-dots,  and  her  skirt,  are  already  quite  worn 
out,  but  they  become  her  very  well.  The  high  collar  of 
her  waist  is  tight  about  her  neck  and  is  buttoned  over 
her  left  shoulder.  Sozye  imitates  her  elder  sister  in 
everything,  and  is  a  trifle  "  fresh."] 

Hinde.  Hush!  What  kind  of  a  wedding  do  you  call 
this  ? 

Baylye  [still  busy  with  her  hair].  She,  too,  has  to 
talk  about  his  machines ! 

DoBBE  [to  her  daughters].  Any  one  would  think  we 
don't  pay  rent  here.  We  aren't  allowed  to  put  our  pots 
into  the  oven. 

Baylye  [pointing  to  Tsippe].  It's  all  her  doings. 
All  hers.     She  shoved  all  the  pots  aside  and  .  .  . 


36  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [AcT  I 

TaippE.  May  your  hands  wither  .  .  . 

Orke  Goldin  [appears  at  the  rear  door.  A  young 
man  of  twenty-five  or  twenty-six.  Dressed  like  a  dandy, 
beard  shaven,  curled  mustache.  He  wears  a  large  over- 
coat, bright  colored  shoes,  his  yellow  derby  on  a  slant, 
a  stiff  collar,  with  a  loud  tie  in  which  sticks  a  diamond 
pin.  Rings  on  the  fingers  of  both  hands.  He  carries  a 
heavy  cane,  with  a  staghorn  top.  He  stops  on  the 
threshold  and  calls  out].  Ahu !  Ahu !  What  kind  of  a 
fair  do  you  call  this?  [The  cries  of  the  women  subside. 
Gelye  disappears  into  her  room,  Tsippe  takes  out  her 
pot  and  follows  Gelye.  Dobbe  pushes  her  daughters 
toward  the  door,  but  they  pretend  to  be  occupied  with 
their  needlework,  and  remain  in  the  room.  Baylye 
takes  from  the  cradle  Elinke,  who  has  by  this  time 
reached  his  highest  notes;  she  places  him  on  her  left 
arm  and  spanks  him,  then  takes  him  in  her  hands  and 
rocks  him  there,  as  she  goes  about  the  room.] 

Orke  [stepping  into  the  room.  Merrily].  Why! 
You're  having  a  j  oily  time  here ! 

Baylye.  May  my  enemies  enjoy  such  jolly  times! 
When  God  wants  to  punish  a  person,  He  certainly  gives 
good  measure.  ...  As  if  bad  neighbors  weren't  enough, 
here  comes  .  .  . 

Orke  [who  has  meanwhile  gone  over  to  Isaac].  And 
he  sits  and  works  away,  and  it  doesn't  bother  him  a  bit. 
Well,  my  genius!     How's  your  invention  getting  along? 

Isaac   [with  an  effort].  I  don't  know  yet. 

Baylye.  The  devil  alone  knows.  And  a  lot  more  he 
knows,  besides ! 

Sozye.  If  he  didn't  know,  he  wouldn't  be  working  at 
it,  would  he? 

Baylye.  The  lunatic ! 

Orke  [bends  over  the  table].  Let  a  fellow  see  what 


Act  I]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  37 

you're  making,  there,  won't  you?  Is  that  for  tassels? 
[Picks  up  a  wheel.]  Where  does  this  belong?  [Picks 
up  another  part  and  attaches  it  to  the  wheel.]  Does 
this  go  here?  Well,  ISIr.  Sphinx,  say  something. 
[HiNDE  laughs  and  Sozye  follows  suit.]  Are  you  recit- 
ing the  Eighteen  Benedictions  now,  that  you  have  to 
stand  so  silent?      [Hinde  and  Sozye  laugh  louder.] 

Baylye.  Other  people  may  talk  and  laugh  as  loudly 
as  they  please,  and  he  doesn't  object  a  bit.  But  just 
let  me  say  a  word,  and  he'll  attack  me  like  a  mad 
dog. 

Orke  [takes  a  round  piece  of  wood  and  squeezes  it 
into  a  hole  somewhere  in  the  machine,  which  Isaac  is 
holding  in  his  hand]. 

Isaac  [takes  it  out  of  Orke's  hand,  lays  it  down  on 
the  table  and  continues  his  work]. 

Orke  [keeps  nosing  about  Isaac's  work]. 

Baylye.  Nobody's  ever  in  his  way,  except  me. 

Dobbe  [at  the  door,  to  her  daughters].  What  are  you 
standing  there  for?  Haven't  you  a  room  of  your  own? 
Go  into  your  own  room  and  stay  there. 

Hinde.  All  right.  All  right.  [Turns  to  Baylye  and 
shows  her  what  she's  working  on.]  See  the  nice  shirt 
I'm  making.   .   .  . 

DoBBE  [disappears,  grumbling].  They  won't 
budge.  .  .  . 

Orke  [to  Isaac].  No,  no.  Wait.  .  .  .  Put  this  over 
there.  .  .  .  No,  you're  making  a  bad  job  of  it.  Ah!  I 
tell  you,  put  this  over  there.  .  .  .  Never  mind,  take  my 
advice.  I  tell  you.  .  .  .  [Holds  Isaac  with  his  left 
hand,  and  with  his  right  hand  takes  the  machine.] 

Isaac  [with  restrained  anger  and  intense  suffering]. 
Let  me  alone,  won't  you?  You  don't  know  what  I 
want. 


28  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  I 

Orke.  You  don't  know  yourself  what  you  want.  I 
know  just  what  to  do  here. 

Isaac.  Orke,  please  go  away  from  me. 

Orke  [hitting  Isaac's  head  derisively'].  You're  a 
dunce.  You've  got  a  wooden  head.  [To  the  girls.] 
As  true  as  I  am  a  Jew,  I  understand  the  contrivance 
better  than  he  does.  If  he'd  only  let  me,  I'd  finish  the 
thing  for  him  in  a  jifFy. 

HiNDE  [coquet tishly].  You  merely  think  so. 

Orke  [impudently].  Do  you  want  me  to  show  you  an 
even  better  trick? 

HiNDE.  Let's  see. 

Orke.  Too  many  people  around. 

HiNDE  and  Sozye  [blush.  Their  faces  express  em- 
barrassment and  indignation.  Hinde  turns  to  Baylye 
as  if  to  say  something  to  her]. 

Orke  [looks  triumphantly  at  the  girls,  with  an  air  of 
intense  self-satisfaction.  He  notices  Pin  ye,  and  turns 
to  him,  jocosely].  Well,  Reb  Pinye,  what  is  it  that's 
dead? 

Pinye  [raises  his  eyes  to  Orke  and  lowers  them  im- 
mediately.    He  answers  quickly].  All  Heaven's  dead. 

Orke.  And  who  else? 

Pinye.  The  Earth  is  dead.     God  is  dead.  .  .  . 

Orke.  And  were  you  to  His  funeral? 

Pinye.  I  was. 

Hinde  and  Sozye  [laugh]. 

Orke.  Where  did  they  bury  Him? 

Pinye.  In  the  dead  heaven. 

Orke.  And  they  covered  Him  with  earth  ? 

Baylye  [to  Orke].  Your  father  ought  to  be  hearing 
this. 

Orke.  My  father  would  be  the  first  one  to  put  a  con- 
tribution into  the  charity-box  if  God  died. 


Act  I]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  29 

Baylye.  Indeed!  [To  the  girls.]  And  what  are 
you  two  giggling  about?  Is  this  proper  talk  to  listen 
to?     They  even  laugh  at  it! 

HiNDE  [laughs].  I  can't  help  laughing  at  the  old 
man's  answers. 

Baylye  [angrily].  And  what  is  there  to  laugh  at  in 
a  lunatic's  talk? 

DoBBE  [enters  in  a  huff].  They've  planted  themselves 
here  and  they  refuse  to  budge.      [Goes  to  the  oven.] 

Baylye.  This  young  sport's  trying  to  be  smart,  and 
they  laugh  at  whatever  he  says. 

DoBBE  [to  her  daughter,  threateningly].  What  are 
you  standing  here  for?     I'll  take  the  fire-fork  and  .  .  • 

HiNDE  [sharply].  If  you  want  to  do  something  in  the 
oven,  why  do  it. 

Orke.  Your  mother  beats  you  with  the  fire-fork,  eh? 

DoBBE  [taking  her  pot  out  from  the  oven].  Come  in, 
now,  and  eat.  [At  the  door.]  I'll  pour  your  soup 
right  away. 

HiNDE  and  Sozye  [follow  her  with  evident  unwilling- 
ness] . 

Orke  [calling  after  them].  Good  appetite! 

HiNDE  and  Sozye  [at  the  door.  Laughing].  Thank 
you.  [They  disappear.] 

Orke  [noses  about  Isaac's  worh  again].  Well,  how 
long  is  it  going  to  take  you  to  finish  all  this  ? 

Isaac  [shrugging  his  shoulders]. 

Orke.  What  are  you  shrugging  your  shoulders  about? 
Eh?  My  father  sent  me  to  warn  you,  for  the  last  time, 
that  he'll  put  another  man  in  your  place.  He's  not 
fooling.     He  means  what  he  says. 

Isaac   [shrugs  his  shoulders  as  before], 

Baylye.  Shrugs  his  shoulders ! 

Orke.  There's  nothing  to  shrug  your  shoulders  about ! 


30  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  I 

You  come  back  to  work  to-day  or  to-morrow.  Nobody 
needs  your  machines,  I'll  have  you  understand.  And  if 
they  ivill  need  them,  they'll  be  invented  without  your 
assistance.  Better  come  back  to  work.  [To  Baylye.] 
See  to  it  that  he  returns  to  work.  We'll  certainly  put  a 
man  in  his  place. 

Baylye.  I've  been  after  him  for  the  past  three 
days. 

Orke  [arises,  about  to  go.  Ironically'\.  If  he  must 
tinker  around  with  the  "  machine,"  let  him  work  at  it  by 
night.     Let  him  stay  up  all  night  for  all  I  care. 

TsippE  [appears  at  her  door  with  both  baskets.  To 
Gelye,  within].  Then  go,  right  away. 

Gelye  [appears  at  the  door.  She  is  turned  away 
from  the  audience  and  is  buttoning  her  waist.  She  casts 
a  glance  at  Orkk].  All  right.  All  right.  Can't  you  see 
I'm  dressing? 

TsiPPE  [goes  about  the  room,  grumbling].  Bah! 
What  a  meal  that  was !     Everything  raw  ! 

Orke  [sits  down  again.  To  Gelye].  What  did  you 
run  away  for.  Miss? 

Gelye.  I  wanted  to  run  away,  so  I  did. 

Orke.  I  don't  bite  young  ladies. 

Gelye.  I'm  not  afraid  of  being  bitten.  I've  got  teeth 
of  my  own.      [Disappears  into  her  room.] 

Orke  [nudges  Isaac  with  his  elbow].  Say,  boy! 
You've  got  some  sweet  neighbors  here!  I'll  have  to  be 
a  more  frequent  visitor  to  your  home. 

Baylye.  In  that  case  they'll  never  want  to  leave  our 
room. 

Orke  [curling  his  mustache].  Am  I  really  a  good- 
looking  chap? 

Baylye.  Much  difference  it  makes  to  them.  ...  A 
goose,  a  duck, —  as  long  as  it's  a  fowl.  .  .  . 


Act  I]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  31 

Orke  [to  Isaac].  Your  wife  isn't  much  at  giving 
compliments. 

Baylye  [cuttingly].  I  like  to  tell  the  truth. 

Gelye  [enters  from  her  room.  She  wears  a  yellow 
hat,  a  blue  skirt  and  a  bright  tippet.  Under  her  arm  a 
small  bundle.     She  walks  to  rear  door]. 

Orke  [arises].  Well,  remember  that  you  must  return 
to  work.  If  you're  not  there  by  to-morrow  morning, 
you  may  be  sure  your  job  will  go  to  another  fellow,  and 
you  needn't  trouble  to  come  again.  [Hurries  after 
Gelye.] 

Baylye  [stands  motionless  at  the  rear  door,  much  sur- 
prised that  both  Gelye  and  Orke  are  about  to  leave  to- 
gether]. 

Orke  [opens  the  door  to  the  street,  invites  Gelye]. 
If  you  please;  ladies  first.  [Hinde  and  Sozye  appear 
at  their  door.     Orke  lifts  his  hat  and  bows.]      Good  day  ! 

Hinde  and  Sozye  [laugh].  Good  day,  gracious  sir! 
[Gelye  and  Orke  leave.] 

Baylye  [turns  away  from  the  door  in  anger  and  dis- 
gust. She  spits  out  and  swallows  a  curse.  Hinde  and 
Sozye  step  into  the  room.  Baylye  does  not  deign  to 
look  upon  them]. 

Hinde.  Is  that  old  Goldin's  son? 

Baylye  [does  not  even  reply  nor  look  at  Hinde]. 

Hinde.  Such  a  dude !     Not  a  bit  like  his  father ! 

Baylye.  Fine  men,  both  of  them!     Damn  them! 

Hinde.  Beard  shaved  off,  curly  mustache.  .  .  . 
[Makes  a  gesture  over  her  upper  lip  as  if  she  were  curl- 
ing mustache.]  His  derby  cocked  to  one  side.  [Makes 
a  gesture  as  if  placing  her  hat  to  one  side.] 

Sozye.  A  regular  swell ! 

Hinde.  Rings  on  his  fingers.  Did  you  see  all  the 
rings  he  wears.'' 


32  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  I 

Baylye  [angry  and  impatient].  I've  got  other  worries 
on  my  head  besides  counting  the  rings  he  wears. 

HiNDE  [as  if  Baylye  had  not  addressed  her].  And 
the  dainty  pair  of  shoes.  ,  .  . 

Baylye  [xvith  an  outcry].  And  that's  all  you've  got 
to  worry  about,  is  it? 

Dobbe  [at  her  door,  to  her  daughters].  What's  that.^ 
Here  again  ?     Haven't  you  anything  to  do  ? 

Baylye.  They've  started  to  talk  about  how  Goldin's 
darling  son  was  dressed.  They've  got  nothing  else  to 
worry  about. 

DoBBE  [thrusting  her  daughters  out].  Out.  Off  to 
your  work.     Or  else  I'll  take  a  fire-fork  and  .  .  . 

Baylye.  As  soon  as  they  see  a  pair  of  pants  they  go 
wild.      [Turns  about  and  looks  angrily  at  Isaac] 

SILENCE 

Isaac  [looks  despairingly  at  the  machine  in  his 
hands.     Sighs].  It  doesn't  work,  no  matter  what  I  do. 

Baylye  [stops  suddenly  between  the  table  and  the 
bed,  and  exclaims  explosively].  What  do  you  say  now.^ 
He  won't  put  another  man  in  your  place,  eh? 

Isaac  [in  despair.  Looks  at  his  work  with  lifeless 
eyes>] . 

Baylye  [more  sharply].  I  tell  you,  Isaac,  my  patience 
has  its  limits.  .  .  . 

Isaac  [more  despairingly  than  ever].  It  simply  won't 
work,  no  matter  what  I  do. 

Baylye  [more  heatedly].  I  tell  you,  I'll  take  your 
whole  contraption  and  smash  it  to  splinters.  I'll  dump 
it  into  the  fire.  ...  I'll  ..  . 

Isaac  [bitterly].  H'm.  [Shakes  his  head  despair- 
ingly.] 


Act  I]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  33 

Baylye.  I'll  show  you  that  I've  got  a  little  say  in  the 
matter,  too.  I  won't  let  you  do  whatever  you  please  and 
leave  us  to  starve  of  hunger.  [Her  voice  rises  to  a  high 
pitch.]  Do  you  hear  what  I'm  saying  to  you  or  not.^ 
I  tell  you,  I'll  .  .  . 

Isaac  [pale,  tremhling  all  over,  his  teeth  clenched,  he 
dashes  all  his  work  to  the  floor.  He  sinks  down  into  the 
chair  leaning  heavily  against  its  back,  stretches  out  his 
feet,  thrusts  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  and  stares 
blankly  at  the  edge  of  the  table]. 

Baylye  [her  words  freeze  on  her  lips.  She  looks  at 
Isaac  in  fright]. 

PiNYE  [looks  for  a  moment  at  the  wheels  and  sticks 
that  have  rolled  over  to  him,  and  bends  slowly  toward 
them], 

CURTAIN 


.  ACT  II 

Goldin's  factory.  A  large  wide  room.  To  the  left,  two 
looms.  Behind  the  second  loom  a  high  fire-place. 
In  the  right  wall,  two  windows  whose  panes  are  of 
ground  glass.  Before  the  further  of  these  windows 
is  a  third  loom.  Before  the  front  window,  a  table 
with  two  chairs.  Between  the  table  and  the  loom 
stand  Isaac's  press  and  machine.  At  the  rear,  a 
door,  which  leads  to  the  yard  on  the  right  and  the 
office  on  the  left.  Between  the  fire-place  and  the 
door  a  small  table  and  a  chair.  In  the  middle  of 
the  room,  front,  a  table  with  four  chairs  placed 
about  it.  To  the  right  of  the  door,  in  the  corner, 
there  lean  large  hides,  a  couple  of  old  scabbards, 
large  rolls  of  cardboard.  Across  the  rear  wall  ex- 
tend shelves,  on  which  are  piled  all  sorts  of  card- 
board, little  chests,  pieces  of  cloth  of  every  color, 
and  old  epaulettes.  The  floor  is  littered  with 
scraps  of  paper,  cardboard,  cloth,  needles,  gold 
threads,  spangles,  strips  of  galloon,  etc.  On  the 
center  table  there  are  four  cloth  plates  on  which 
lie  white,  yellow  and  silver  threads  and  spangles, 
and  epaulettes,  in  various  stages  of  completion. 
On  the  rear  table,  braid  ready  to  be  made  into 
epaulettes. 

It  is  noon.  Near  the  center  table,  his  back  to  the  door, 
sits  Zelig,  finishing  his  meal.  He  is  about  twenty- 
five;  long,  dark,  uncombed  hair;  his  beard  is  trimmed 
short;  small  mustache.     He  wears  over  his  trousers 

34 


Act  II]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  35 

a  gray,  hand-served  shirt,  tied  around  xcith  a  red 
ribbon  with  tufts.  Before  him  are  a  plate,  knife, 
spoon  and  fork.  On  the  sill  of  the  forward  win- 
dow, which  is  half  open,  sits  Sender.  He  is  look- 
ing out  into  the  yard,  and  whistling  a  tune.  He  is 
of  Zelig's  age;  his  hair  is  chestnut-color,  curly  and 
parted  in  the  middle;  no  beard,  and  thick,  red  curled 
mustache;  wears  a  smock,  collar  and  small  tie,  vest 
and  coat.  Between  the  two  looms  at  the  left,  lies 
old  Michel.  He  is  almost  gray,  with  a  mixture  of 
yellowish  hair.  Wears  no  coat.  Over  his  shirt, 
which  is  open  at  the  breast,  is  visible  the  four- 
fringed  scarf  worn  by  all  orthodox  Jewish  men. 
At  the  rear  table  sits  Yoshke,  a  youngster  of  some: 
fourteen  or  fifteen  years,  his  head  resting  on  his 
left  hand,  his  right  holding  a  pencil  with  which  he 
plays  on  the  table.  His  shoes  are  several  sizes  too 
large  for  him. —  From  the  office  comes  the  frequent 
ringing  of  a  bell,  which  is  attached  to  the  door  that 
leads  in  from  the  outside  to  the  office. 

Zelig  [his  meal  completed,  he  leans  against  the  back 
of  hiS'  chair,  picks  his  teeth  with  a  match,  exhales  his 
breath  noisily,  and  turns  to  Yoshke  with  the  air  of  a 
distinguished  guest].  Waiter!  A  bottle  of  port!  — 
Right  away,  now.     I  have  no  time.     I  say,  waiter ! 

Yoshke.  At  once,  sir!  [From  under  the  fireplace  he 
takes  an  old  kerosene  bottle  and  brings  it  to  him,  lei- 
surely, with  a  loud  scraping  of  his  large  shoes.]  Here 
you  are.     Excuse  the  slight  odor  of  kerosene. 

Zelig  [with  an  expression  of  dissatisfaction].  My 
dear  sir,  what  liberty  is  this  you're  taking?  If  you  have 
no  port,  bring  me  some  Bordeaux,  or  Chateau  La-pfu- 
ique. 


36  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  II 

YosHKE  [scarcely  moving,  he  drags  out  from  under 
the  fireplace  an  oil-stained  beer-bottle,  broken  at  the 
neck^.  This  will  delight  you  extremely,  sir. 

Zelig  [utters  a  confused  cry,  ending  with]  You  im- 
pertinent ass ! 

Michel  [waking  from  his  nap].  Ha!  Zelig's  at  his 
j  okes  again ! 

Zelig  [puts  the  bottle  back  and,  returning  to  his 
place,  assumes  the  same  position  as  before]. 

SILENCE 

Sender  [whistles  as  if  he  were  signaling  to  somebody 
through  the  window], 

Zelig.  The  idea !  Not  to  have  my  wine  after  my 
meal !  Well,  I  don't  come  to  this  restaurant  again ! 
[Thrusts  his  plate  away  from  him.]      Waiter!     The  bill! 

Michel.  Devil  take  that  clown !  He  doesn't  let  me 
sleep. 

Zelig  [curls  his  mustache.  His  expression  is  as  seri- 
ous as  ever]. 

Sender  [calls  to  some  one  outside  the  window,  in  a 
subdued  voice,  at  the  same  time  making  signs  with  his 
hand].  Where  were  you,  anyway?  Just  finished  eat- 
ing?    You  must  have  had  seven  courses! 

Zelig  [jumping  up].  What?  That  stout  one? 
[Leaps  over  to  the  window  where  Sender  is  sitting. 
Looks  out  and  begins  to  make  all  manner  of  bows.] 
Good  day!  How  goes  it?  [To  Sender.]  It  seems  to 
me  she  gains  weight  every  day. 

Sender  [to  the  girl  in  the  opposite  building].  Weren't 
you  over  to  Drovitz's  dancing-school  last  night?  No? 
Were  you?     Did  you  do  much  dancing? 

Zelig    [to  Sender].  Ask  her  where   Bashe   is.      [In 


Act  II]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  37 

a  subdued  voice.'\  Where's  Bashe?  Ba-a-ashe !  —  That 
tall  girl!  In  the  next  room?  Tell  her  to  come  to  the 
window,  [/n  the  same  breath,  but  much  lower.]  Devil 
take  you! — [Louder.]  She's  busy,  you  say?  Busy, 
now? 

Sender.  Just  a  second.  I'll  make  a  date  with  her 
for  the  park  this  evening.  [Loudly,  through  the  win- 
dow.]     Are  you  doing  anything  to-night? 

Zelig.  Make  it  for  Saturday  in  the  woods. 

Sender  [through  the  window].  Then  let's  meet  in  the 
park.     In  that  long  lane.     The  long  one ! 

Zelig  [helping  him].  In  the  lo-o-o-ong  one —  [Under 
his  breath.]  Ears  as  large  as  a  donkey's,  yet  she  can't 
hear.      [Aloud.]      Saturday,  in  the  woods. 

Sender  [shouting].  No,  Saturday  at  Drovitz's. 

Zelig  [hitting  him].  To  the  deuce  with  you!  The 
woods  is  a  better  place.  [Shouting  through  the  win- 
dow.] The  woods  is  better.  Isn't  it?  No?  You  pre- 
fer Drovitz's?  [Pointiyig  with  his  finger.]  Bashe  com- 
ing along  too?  Yes?  That's  fine.  Let's  have  a  dance 
on  it.  [Begins  the  "  Blue  Danube,"  blowing  through 
his  lips  like  a  cornet,  and  dances.  His  arms  are  raised, 
swaying  in  the  air,  his  body  lowered  and  his  knees  bent. 
He  dances  thus  for  a  while,  until  he  has  danced  over 
to  old  Michel  and  falls  on  top  of  him.] 

Michel   [kicks  him,  pushing  him  away]. 

Zelig.  Pardon  me.  Pardon  me.  .  .  .  Hey  there! 
Ow  !     Ow  !     No  kicking,  now  !     No  kicking! 

Michel.  I'll  split  your  head  for  you,  you  clown! 

Zelig  [arising,  and  dusting  himself].  What  do  you 
think  of  him?  He  kicks!  [Riins  over  to  the  window, 
where  Sender  has  been  making  signs  to  the  girl  across 
the  way,  and  shouts  across  the  yard].  Ow!  An  old 
horse  j  ust  kicked  me ! 


38  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  II 

Michel  {^mumhling^.  Plague  take  him! 

Zelig  [to  Sender].  And  meanwhile  you've  already 
made  a  date  with  her.  \^He,  too,  begins  to  make  signs 
across  the  yard  reith  his  fingers,  as  if  engaging  in  deaf- 
and-dumb  language.  From  the  yard  comes  a  chorus  of 
laughter  and  girlish  voices.  Soon  there  enter  Berre, 
HiLYE,  Leivik,  Malke,  and  Temme.] 

Zelig  [^drops  his  deaf-and-dumb  conversation  and 
turns  to  those  who  have  just  come  in.  He  addresses 
them  in  the  voice  of  their  employer,  Goldin].  What  — 
what  do  you  call  this?  Coming  in  so  late!  Once  you 
people  leave  the  place,  you  get  lost  altogether! 

Michel  [straightening  up].  He  doesn't  close  his 
mouth  for  a  second. 

Berre  [a  man  of  forty-five,  long  yellow  beard,  a  large 
broad  nose,  red  from  drinking;  a  broad,  knotty  face. 
He  wears  a  long  black  torn  coat,  that  has  turned  green 
with  age.  He  removes  his  hat,  puts  on  an  old,  velvet 
skull-cap,  which  he  takes  out  of  his  inside  pocket,  and 
gets  busy  near  the  loom  at  the  right]. 

HiLYE  [somewhat  over  twenty.  He  needs  a  shave; 
his  mustache  is  short  and  black;  his  black  hair  is  cut 
quite  close  to  his  head.  He  wears  a  smock,  and  collar, 
but  no  tie.  Sits  down  upon  Yoshke's  table  and  begins 
to  roll  a  cigarette]. 

Leivik  [in  the  middle  twenties,  clean  shaven,  and 
neatly  dressed  in  a  grayish  suit,  smock,  collar  and  neck- 
tie. Goes  over  to  the  window  near  Sender  and  looks 
out  into  the  yard]. 

Malke  [an  elderly  girl,  coquettishly  dressed  in  a 
tight-fitting  bodice.  She  removes  the  plate  from  the 
table  and  puts  it  on  a  shelf]. 

Temme  [a  young  girl,  with  a  dreamy  expression. 
Stops  before  Zelig  with  a  broad  smile]. 


Act  II]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  39 

Zelig  [still  imitating  the  boss].  They  become  new 
people  from  the  moment  they  stop  working.  That  crowd 
goes  off  and  they  forget  to  come  back.  And  this  lazy 
lout  [pointing  to  Michel]  lies  down  to  snooze  and  you 
can't  wake  him  up  with  a  hammer.  From  this  day  for- 
ward, I  forbid  all  going  out  for  dinners,  and  all  sleep- 
ing. 

Malke.  Maybe  you'll  raise  our  wages,  too,  boss? 

Zelig.  \Miat!  What!  What  else  will  you  ask.? 
Raise  your  wages  !     Indeed ! 

Leivik  and  Sender  [return  from  the  window  with 
loud  laughter]. 

Zelig  [very  inquisitive.  He  forgets  the  role  he  has 
assumed].  What  was  that?  What  were  you  people  do- 
ing there?  [Runs  over  to  the  window,  but  sees  nothing, 
so  he  turns  back  to  Sender  and  Leivik,  who  are  still 
laughing.]  Did  that  cranky  old  forelady  come  to  the 
window?  —  What's  the  joke?  Out  with  it!  [Assum- 
ing Goldin's  voice  and  manner  again.]  And  you  fel- 
lows could  stand  at  the  window  all  day,  flirting  with  the 
girls !  A  fine  bunch  of  workers  I  have !  Not  worth  the 
dirt  they  step  on! 

Leivik  [stops  laughing].  You  see,  the  old  lady  came 
by.     So  he  .  .  . 

Malke  and  Temme  [at  the  window].  Isaac  is  coming! 
Isaac  is  coming!  [All  the  workers  rush  to  the  window. 
Michel  gets  up  from  the  floor.  There  are  cries  of 
"Welcome,  Isaac! "  ..."  Greetings! "  "Have  you 
got  the  machine  with  you?  "  .  .  .] 

Sender.  I  don't  see  him  carrying  any  machines. 
HiLYE.  He    doesn't    look    any    too    cheerful.     [The 
workers  turn  to  the  door,  expectantly.] 

Zelig.  Let's  receive  him  with  a  loud  hurrah  and  a 
march  of  triumph ! 


40  ISAAC  SMEFTEL  [Act  II 

Isaac  "[enters,  pale,  sad,  dejected.  He  is  greeted  with 
a  lusty  "Hurrah.'  "]. 

Zelio  [blows  a  march  through  his  closed  lips,  waving 
his  hands'  like  a  music-director} . 

YosHKE  and  Temme  [hum  the  tune  also'}. 

Isaac  [steps  aside  from  the  crowd,  sadder  and  more 
dejected  than  ever,  and  walks  over  to  the  loom  in  the 
left  foreground.  He  is  plainly  suppressing  a  bitter 
outburst]. 

Berre.  What's  the  trouble,  Isaac?  —  Where's  your 
new  machine? 

Isaac  [silent}. 

HiLYE.  I  guess  it's  all  up  with  the  machine. 

Isaac  [throwing  off  his  hat,  angrily  and  bitterly}. 
Shout  "  Hurrah !  "     Shout! 

Leivik.  Isn't  the  machine  done  yet? 

HiLYE.  Isn't  it  done  yet,  or  will  it  never  be  done? 

Zelig.  Or  did  your  sweet  better-half  drive  you  out  of 
the  house? 

Sender.  Or  are  you  pregnant  with  an  idea  for  a 
brand  new  invention? 

Isaac  [busying  himself  about  the  loom.  Angrily}. 
What  are  you  pestering  me  for?  What  worry  is  it  of 
yours  ? 

Michel.  Really,  what  worry  of  ours  is  it?  Really. 
Really. 

Zelig.  Hush!  You  mustn't  talk  to  our  famous  engi- 
neer. Hush!  Quiet.  .  .  .  [Walks  on  tiptoe,  raising 
his  feet  high  in  the  air.  An  alarm  clock  sounds  the  re- 
turn to  work.  The  men  and  women  run  to  their  places. 
Zelig,  Hilye,  Malke,  and  Temme  go  to  the  center 
table:  Zelig  at  the  left,  Malke  at  the  right,  Temme  at 
the  back,  and  Hilye  at  the  front;  Sender  and  Leivik  go 
to  the  table  near  the  window:  Leivik  at  the  back.  Sender 


Act  IIj  ISAAC  SHEPTEL  41 

at  the  front;  Yoshke  goes  to  the  table  furthest  back. 
Michel  and  Berre  remain  near  Isaac.  They,  too,  look 
dejected,  and  are  silent.] 

Isaac  [sits  down  to  his  zcork]. 

Michel  [looks  at  him  sadly].  Did  it  all  come  to  noth- 
ing?—  Was  it  too  hard  to  put  together?  —  Will  it  take 
long?  [Seeing  that  he  receives  no  reply,  he  sighs  and 
casts  his  eyes  to  the  floor,  crestfallen.] 

Berre  [sighs.  Then  both  he  and  Michel  proceed  to 
their  looms.  Michel  near  Isaac,  Berre  to  the  loom  at 
the  right], 

Orke  [appears  at  the  door.  Noticing  Isaac,  he  strikes 
an  attitude,  as  if  to  say,  "Ha!  He  is  here!"  He  is 
about  to  step  into  the  room,  but  suddenly  recalls  some- 
thing and  returns  to  the  office]. 

Zelig  [Teith  a  mock  sigh].  Ah!  The  invention  re- 
fused to  be  invented! 

Malke,  And  meanwhile  he  lost  two  and  a  half  days 
of  work. 

Hilye.  Well,  let  him  not  be  so  ambitious  to  become  an 
inventor. 

Leivik.  That's  easy  to  say.  It's  not  a  matter  of  mere 
wanting  to  be.  It's  a  thing  that's  part  of  a  person's 
very  soul.  I  remember,  when  I  was  a  youngster,  I  had 
a  deep  desire  to  become  a  painter.  .  .  . 

Sender.   You  mean  a  sign-painter,  perhaps? 

Leivik.  Every  scrap  of  paper  I'd  pick  up,  I'd  cover 
with  pictures:     People,  soldiers,  a  horse  .  .  . 

Hilye.   Yourself,  in  other  words. 

Leivik.  At  home  and  in  the  Hebrew  school  I  used 
to  be  whipped  without  mercy,  because  all  I  did  was  draw 
pictures.  And  when  they  apprenticed  me  to  a  lace- 
maker,  I  cried  my  eyes  out.   .  .   . 

Sender  [with  mock-tears].  Boo-hoo! 


ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  II 


Leivik.  And  to  this  very  day^,  when  I  look  at  a 
painting,  I  become  so  moody,  and  feel  that  there's  some- 
thing in  me  that  is  powerfully  attracted  to  the  picture. 

Zelig.  Ah!     In  me,  too! 

HiLYE.  Ah! 

Leivik.  And  at  other  times,  when  I  sit  thinking,  I  get 
such  a  powerful  impulse  to  draw.   .  .  . 

Zelig.  And  how  I'd  like  to  be  an  actor! 

Hilye.  a  clown  in  the  circus,  maybe.'' 

Zelig.  No,  a  real  actor.  And  come  out  on  the  stage 
and  declaim.  .  .  .  [He  places  his  left  hand  over  his 
heart,  raises  his  right  hand  high  in  the  air,  throws  hack 
his  head  and  declaims.]  "  How  dear  thou  art,  my 
precious  heart !  " 

Sender.  Ah! 

Zelig   [continuing],  "Thou  angel  .  .  ." 

Temme.  I,  too,  would  really  like  to  go  on  the  stage. 

Malke  [sarcastically].  Well!  What  do  you  think  of 
our  new  leading  lady ! 

Hilye  [to  Temme  and  Zelig].  I'll  tell  you  what! 
Why  don't  you  two  go  on  the  stage  in  partnership  and 
make  —  a  troupe. 

Zelig  [suddenly  falls  to  his  knees  before  Temme]. 

Temme   [frightened].  Oh! 

Zelig  [stretching  out  his  hand].  Come  to  my  arms, 
crown  of  my  head.      [General  laughter.] 

Michel  and  Berre  [look  upon  the  merriment  with 
shaking  of  their  heads.  Footsteps  are  heard  behind  the 
office  door]. 

Zelig  [jumps  to  his  feet.  The  workers  suddenly  ap- 
ply themselves  very  industriously  to  their  work]. 

Michel.  There's  a  crowd  for  you ! 

Berre.  One  is  worse  than  the  other. 

Michel.  Not  worth  the  earth  they  step  on. 


Act  II]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  43 

Berre.  Tramps  .  .  .  loafers  .  .  . 

Orke  [enters,  and  walks  straight  over  to  Isaac]. 
Well,  how  goes  it  with  your  invention? 

Zelig.   It  refused  to  be  invented. 

Orke.  WTiat.''  Nothing  really  came  of  it?  Have 
you  got  it  here? 

YosHKE.  The  famous  engineer  is  too  busy  to  be  dis- 
turbed now. 

Berre.  You  shut  up,  you ! 

Zelig  [attempts  to  pull  Isaac's  chair  from  under 
hirn^. 

Isaac  [furious].  You  clown,  you.  Keep  your  hands 
to  yourself ! 

Orke.  I  told  him  right  away,  the  moment  I  looked  at 
the  thing,  that  he  was  simply  wasting  his  time  at  it.  I 
saw  at  once  that  his  effort  was  all  misspent.  And  when 
I  tried  to  give  him  a  point  or  two  .  .  . 

Leivik.  V^Tio?  You  wanted  to  show  him  how  to  do 
it? 

Orke.  Upon  my  word,  if  he  had  only  let  me,  I  would 
have  finished  the  thing  for  him  in  a  jiffy. 

Zelig  [crorcing].  Cock-a-doodle-doo! 

YosHKE    [sneezes  mockingly].   Kerchoo ! 

Leivik  [to  Oiike].  How  long  is  it  since  you've  become 
such  a  smarty? 

Sender.  You  can't  deny  that  he's  an  expert  glutton. 

Isaac  [turning  to  the  men  and  women].  INIuch  he 
knows  .  .   . 

Hilye.  That's  it.     Say  something. 

Orke  [sits  down  on  the  corner  of  the  table  near 
Zelig].  But  I  tell  you,  he's  got  some  swell-looking  girls 
for  neighbors !  .  .  .  [He  is  at  a  loss  for  words  to  ex- 
press his  delight,  and  scratches  his  head  tenth  his  right 
hand.] 


44  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  II 

Sender.  There!  Now  you  said  something  worth 
hearing ! 

Michel  and  Berre  [casi  significant  glances  at  one 
another  and  sigh.  The  office  bell  rings.  Orke  runs 
into  the  office]. 

Zelig  [calling  after  him'].  Drat  that  bell!  Has  to 
ring  just  when  things  are  beginning  to  get  interesting! 

Leivik.  My !  What  a  connoisseur  he's  become  all  of 
a  sudden! 

Malke.  The  simpleton !     He  can't  add  one  and  one ! 

Berre.  I'd  enjoy  giving  a  drubbing  to  a  swell-head 
like  that! 

Michel.  His  old  man  is  just  the  same.     Knows  it  all. 

Malke.  Only  with  his  mouth. 

Leivik.  Did  he  really  want  to  show  you  how  to  do  it, 
Isaac  ? 

Malke.  You  can't  talk  to  him  to-day, —  our  silent  in- 
ventor. 

Zelig.  Not  a  word. 

Leivik.  I  can  imagine  how  he  must  have  bothered  him 
over  there  this  morning. 

Berre.  He's  an  awful  bore,  when  he  gets  going. 

HiLYE.  He  doesn't  bore  me. 

Temme.  I  should  say  not. 

HiLYE.  What  are  you  blushing  about? 

Temme.  If  you  two  get  fresh  with  me  once  more, 
you'll  hear  from  me. 

Zelig  [putting  his  arms  around  Temme's  waist]. 
What?  You  dare  to  hurt  my  little  Temme?  [Caresses 
her  cheek.]  Tell  me,  dear  little  Temme,  what  did  the 
naughty  people  do  to  you? 

Temme  [thrusting  him  away].  Let  me  go,  you  clown. 
[Enter  Orke.] 


Act  II]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  45 

Malke  [to  Orke].  Quick  now.  Tell  us  some  more 
about  those  neighbors  of  Isaac's. 

HiLYE.  \Miat  do  you  want,  anyway?  [To  Orke.] 
She,  too ! 

Orke  [lighting  a  cigarette,  and  puffing  it  so  that  it 
will  get  well  started,  goes  over  to  the  center  table  and 
sits  down  on  its  edge,  near  Zelig].  I  tell  you,  boys, 
there's  something  to  see  there.  He  lives  in  a  regular 
Garden  of  Eden.  [To  Isaac]  What's  the  name  of 
that  girl  I  left  with  ? 

Zelig.  Quick  work!  He's  been  out  with  one  of  them! 
already ! 

Orke.  I  should  say!  But  what's  her  name,  Isaac?  — 
Wliat's  the  matter  with  you,  man,  are  you  crazy  ?  Can't 
you  answer  a  civil  question?  [Gives  Isaac  a  strong 
slap  over  the  knee.'\      Answer  me,  I  say! 

Isaac  [his  body  twitches  with  pain;  he  speaks  wltli 
ill-disguised  anger].  Let  me  alone.  You  could  have 
asked  her  if  you   .  ,  . 

Orke.  This  fellow's  too  insolent. 

Isaac.  And  don't  get  so  familiar  with  me,  either,  and 
keep  your  hands  off  my  knee. 

Orke.  Altogether  too  insolent. 

Berre  and  Michel  [motion  to  Orke  to  keep  quiet]. 

Malke.  I  know  his  neighbors  very  well.  The  two 
sisters  Hinde  and  Sozye  —  you  know  them  too,  Temme 
—  are  rather  good-looking.  But  that  other  one,  Gelye, 
I  can't  stand  at  all.     A  big  mouth  .  .  . 

Orke.  A  lot  she  knows  about  looks.  [To  Malke.] 
Do  you  call  yourself  good-looking? 

Malke.  Gelye  has  a  face  dotted  with  freckles.  Isn't 
that  so,  Temme? 

Temme.  Why,  certainly.     Just  covered  with  them. 


46  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  II 

Zeug.  He  overlooked  the  freckles. 

Orke.  Bah !  A  lot  they  both  know  what  they're  talk- 
ing about!     You  can  take  my  word  for  it  that  .  .  . 

Malke.  Now  I'll  admit  that  Hinde  and  Sozye  are 
really  good-looking  girls. 

Orke.  I  say  we  ought  to  be  more  frequent  visitors  to 
Isaac's  place. 

Zelig  [to  Isaac].  Why  don't  you  give  a  ball?  .  .  . 

Orke.  In  honor  of  the  machine  you  didn't  make. 

Michel  [angrily'].  What?  What?  What?  It's  not 
right  to  tease  him  so.      [Shrugs  his  shoulders.^ 

Zelig.  And  invite  all  of  us. 

Berre.  You  clown,  stop  your  antics. 

Orke.  What's  it  your  business?  Do  your  work! 
What  do  you  care? 

Berre  and  Michel  [maJce  gestures  of  despair]. 

Isaac  [with  suppressed  feeling].  I  ask  no  one  to  take 
my  part. —  [The  office  bell  rings.  Orke  runs  into  the 
office.^ 

SILENCE 

Berre  [sarcastically].  There's  a  son  for  you! 

Michel  [the  same].  A  crackerjack! 

Malke  [laughing].  And  Gelye  is  to  his  taste!  With 
that  big  mouth  of  hers,  and  her  freckles.  A  lean,  lanky 
.  .  .  Now  the  two  sisters  are  really  .  .  . 

Zelig.  I'll  bet  he  likes  all  three  of  'em. 

Sender.  You  took  the  words  out  of  my  mouth. 

HiLVE.  Let's  leave  it  to  Isaac.  Eh,  Isaac?  What  do 
you  say?  You'll  talk  to  us,  won't  you?  Eh?  How? 
It's  a  very  important  question. 

Michel.  Enough  of  your  tomfoolery  and  your  teas- 
ing. Enough!  He  too!  Orke's  chum!  [Silence. 
Soon  Zelig,  Sender,  Malke,  Temme  and  Yoshke  com- 


Act  II]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  47 

mence  to  sing  at  their  rn'ork,  all  humming  different  tunes.'\ 

Sender.  Isaac,  here  comes  your  wife. 

Malke  [goes  to  the  •window'].  Yes.  Here  she  comes. 
And  she's  carrying  .   .  . 

Zelig  [sticks  Malke  with  the  point  of  a  needle  and 
jumps  back  to  his  seat]. 

Malke.  Ow  !  [Looks  around.]  Who  stuck  me  then, 
eh?  —  I  can  tell  it  was  Zelig.      [Begins  to  hit  him.] 

Zelig  [defending  himself].  Who.^  Who?  I  didn't 
do  it! 

Baylye  [comes  in.  She  is  carrying  a  pot  tied  about 
•with  a  sheet  that  is  "wet  from  the  contents.  To  her 
"  Good  day,"  the  men  and  women  reply  variously, 
"  Good  year,"  "  Good  day,"  "  Bon  jour."] 

Isaac  and  Hilye  [silent]. 

Baylye  [going  over  to  Isaac].  Here,  I  brought  you 
dinner.  Eat,  now.  Do  you  hear? —  [Bitterly.] 
Take  it,  and  eat. —  [More  bitterly.]  Enough  of  your 
obstinacy. 

Isaac  [quietly].  I  don't  want  to  eat. 

Baylye  [despairingly].  What  do  you  mean,  you  don't 
want  to  eat?  Where  are  you  going  to  get  strength  to 
work? 

Temme.  Did  he  really  leave  the  house  without  eating 
his  dinner? 

Baylye.  Yes.  Without  dinner!  And  do  you  think 
he  ate  anything  before  dinner-time?  He  got  up  at  day- 
break and  went  right  to  work,  on  that  unlucky  machine 
of  his,  and  hasn't  had  a  thing  in  his  mouth  since.  [To 
Isaac,  with  tears.]      Here,  eat  something! 

Berre,  Don't  be  childish,  Isaac.  Eat.  What  do  you 
call  this,  anyway?     It's  foolish. 

Baylye  [weeping].  It's  been  like  this  for  the  past 
three  days:     He   hasn't   slept,   he   hasn't  eaten;   every 


48  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  II 

moment  was  given  to  that  unlucky  machine  of  his.  [To 
Isaac]     Will  you  eat  or  not? 

Isaac  [as  before}.  I  don't  want  to  eat. 

Baylye  [to  the  workers].  There!  Say  yourself:  how 
is  a  woman  to  endure  all  this.^  [Wailing.]  I  can't 
stand  it!     I  can't  stand  it! 

Malke.  What  do  you  care  if  he  doesn't  eat?  Pff! 
A  lot  I'd  care! 

Baylye.  How  can  a  person  refuse  to  eat  all  day? 

Berre  [lays  aside  his  worTc,  goes  over  to  Isaac  and 
takes  him  by  the  hand].  Don't  be  foolish,  Isaac.  Drop 
your  work,  wash  up  and  eat. 

Isaac,  Please  don't  bother  me.     I  can't  eat. 

Berre.  ^Vhat  do  you  mean, — "can't  eat"?  Wliat 
kind  of  words  are  those  ?  Send  for  a  schnapps  —  take 
a  little  brandy  and  that'll  give  you  an  appetite.  Here, 
Yoshke,  bring  him  a  schnapps. 

Baylye  [restraining  her  tears].  Yes,  send  for  a 
schnapps. 

Isaac.  I  haven't  any  money  and  I  don't  care  for  any 
schnapps. 

Berre.  It  doesn't  need  much  money.  I  suppose  some 
one  of  us  can  advance  it.  Have  you  any  change  about 
you,  Reb  Michel? 

Michel  [shrugging  his  shoulders].  Not  a  kopeck. 

Zelig  [turns  his  pockets  inside  out  and  whistles t 
touching  Hilye  with  his  foot].  You've  got  some,  haven't 
you? 

Hilye.  How  do  you  know?  Have  you  been  in  my 
pockets  ? 

Leivik.  I  can  lend  you  the  price,  Isaac.  [Takes  out 
a  rouble.]      I  can  lend  you  the  whole  rouble. 

Baylye  [takes  the  rouble  from  him;  to  Isaac].  Shall 
I  send  after  a  schnapps  for  you? 


Act  II]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  49 

Berre.  There's  no  need  of  asking.  Here,  Yoshke- 
run  over  and  get  half  a  pint. 

YosHKE   [lazily  takes  the  money'\.  Smirnovka? 

Berre.  Let  it  be  Smirnovka.  But  make  it  quick. 
[Pushes^  Yoshke  oiit,  and  speaks  in  a  pleased  manner.] 
There,  that's  more  like  it.  You'll  have  a  drink, —  it'll 
cheer  you  up  and  then  you'll  eat.  [Sits  down  to  his 
work,  and  speaks  with  much  self-satisfaction.]  A  drink 
is  the  best  remedy.  It's  the  first  thing  I  think  of.  For 
this,  for  that,  for  headache,  for  heartache, —  a  schnapps, 
and  the  trouble  disappears.  [Turns  to  Isaac]  And 
don't  be  a  fool.  Swallow  the  whole  business  at  one  gulp. 
You'll  eat  all  the  heartier  for  it. 

Baylye.  He  hasn't  eaten  a  thing  for  almost  three 
days.     I  don't  know  what  he's  lived  on. 

Malke.  On  the  machine. 

Baylye.  Yes.  The  unlucky  machine.  That's  the 
only  explanation. 

Zelig.  And  what  came  of  it  all?     Didn't  he  finish  n't 

Baylye.  Finish  it?  He  worked  and  worked  —  the 
whole  three  days  it  was  impossible  to  tear  him  away 
from  the  work  table,  and  suddenly  he  seizes  it,  smashes 
it  on  the  floor,  and  .   .  . 

Leivik  [amazed].  H'm! 

Baylye.  I  began  to  tremble  all  over, —  hands  and 
feet.  I  shivered  like  a  leaf.  And  he  sat  down  with 
staring  eyes.  .  .  . 

Malke.  An  insane  man. 

Leivik.  No-o.     That's  not  insanity.     It's  .  .  .  it's  .  .  . 

Baylye.  What  is  it  then?  [Laughing  ironically.] 
No.     That's  not  insanity  ! 

Isaac  [to  Baylye].  Do  me  a  favor  and  go  home. 

Baylye  [looks  at  him  angrily  and  frightened].  No. 
That's  not  insanity ! 


50  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  II 

Berre.  You  really  ought  to  go  home.  That  would 
make  things  much  better.  [Motions  her  to  leave. 
Michel  does  the  same.^ 

Baylye  [insulted,  prepares  to  go].  I'm  the  only  one 
that's  ever  in  his  way.      [Angrily.]      Eat,  you  lunatic! 

Berre.  He'll  eat.  Go  home.  Don't  worry.  He'll 
have  a  drink  and  he'll  eat. 

Baylye  [to  Isaac].  And  remember  to  bring  the  pot 
home. 

Berre.  All  right.     He'll  bring  it. 

Baylye    [at  the  door].  Lunatic!  [Exit.] 

Michel.  A  woman  is  only  a  woman  after  all. 

Malke.  I've  known  Baylye  for  eight  years, —  before 
she  was  married.  My !  Wasn't  she  the  lively  piece ! 
And  now,  what  a  change!     She  looks  something  awful! 

Berre.  And  how  did  Isaac  look  eight  years  ago !  To 
be  sure,  he  always  was  a  queer  chap,  but  outside  of 
that  .  .  . 

YosHKE   [enters  "with  the  brandy]. 

Berre  [drops  his  work,  goes  to  Yoshke,  takes  the 
flask  from  him,  together  with  the  change  from  the  rouble, 
and  turns  to  Isaac].  Here.  Just  swallow  some  of  this 
brandy  and  then  eat  a  bite  and  you'll  feel  like  a  new 
man, —  the  Isaac  you  used  to  be.  [Takes  down  a  glass 
from  the  shelf.]  Maybe  you've  forgotten  the  old-time 
Isaac.  Let  me  recall  him,  then.  Do  you  remember,  just 
outside  the  city  in  Korobanovka  }  [Pours  out  a  glassful, 
looking  enviously  at  the  flowing  brandy.]  Do  you  re- 
member how  you  used  to  .  .  .  Here  .  .  .  take  .  .  . 
Well?  Here,  take  it.  .  .  .  [Puts  down  the  flask,  takes 
Isaac's  hat  and  puts  it  on  his  head.]  Well,  go  to  it. 
Say  the  blessing  and  drink  it  down.  [Takes  the  flask 
again.]  Take  it,  Isaac.  Don't  be  a  child.  Here, 
Isaac. 


Act  II]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  61 

Michel.  Bah !  Isaac  !  Don't  be  obstinate.  Drink  it 
down  and  eat  your  dinner.  Why  are  you  acting  so 
foolishly,  eh? 

Berre  [bringing  the  glass  to  Isaac's  lips].  Drink,  I 
tell  you!     Chump! 

Zelig  [to  Isaac].  Better  take  it  quickly  or  he'll  drink 
it  himself! 

Isaac  [he  tries  to  turn  his  head  away.  Suddenly  he 
sei::es  the  glass  and  empties  it  at  a  single  gulp]. 

Berre  [follows  the  disappearing  brandy  with  envious 
eyes.  He  smacks  his  lips,  and  makes  a  wry  face,  as  if 
he  had  felt  the  coolness  and  the  bitter  taste  of  the 
brandy].  Now  you're  acting  sensibly.  That's  the  way 
I  like  to  see  you.  [Takes  the  empty  glass  from  Isaac] 
And  now  another  one.  [Pours  another  glass,  sniffing  it 
as  he  does  so.]      No  waiting,  either. 

Isaac  [restraining  Berre's  hand.  Sinister].  Give  me 
the  flask.  [Takes  the  flask  out  of  Berre's  hand,  puts  it 
to  his  lips  and  swallows  the  entire  contents  at  one  gulp.] 

Berre  [who  has  given  the  flask  unwillingly,  follows 
every  movement  of  Isaac's,  stretching  his  neck  forward 
as  he  does  so.  After  Isaac  has  emptied  the  flask,  he 
takes  it  from  him  and  offers  him  the  glass].  And  now 
take  the  little  bit  that's  left  in  the  glass,  and  make  it  a 
full  measure.  You  refuse?  Then  now  for  your  dinner. 
[Puts  down  the  glass  and  the  flask,  and  shoves  forward 
the  pot  and  the  bread.]     Now,  eat  your  dinner. 

Isaac  [leans  with  both  arms  against  the  loom,  and 
hides  his  face  in  his  hands]. 

Berre.  Eat,  Isaac.  Eat.  And  don't  waste  any  time 
about  it.     It's  cold  already. 

Isaac  [places'  his  head  on  his  left  arm]. 
Berre.  Wliat  have  you  lain  down  for?     I  tell  you, 
take  your  dinner.      [Tries  to  raise  his  head.] 


63  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  fAcT  II 

Isaac  [thrusts  him  aside  with  his  right  hand'\. 

Berre  [insultedl^.  Very  well,  then.  Lie  there.  I  tell 
you  to  eat.  If  you  don't  want  to,  all  right.  Do  as  you 
please.  [Tahes  the  flash  and  looks  regretfully  at  it. 
Then  he  casts  envious  eyes  upon  the  glass.^ 

HiLYE.  Well,  Berre  !     Here's  your  health ! 

Berre.  Don't  eat,  then.  I  won't  bother  with  you  any 
longer,      [Goes  back  to  his  place.] 

Leivik.  Why  don't  you  eat,  Isaac?  You  must  have 
sometliing  solid  in  your  stomach. 

Berre  [indignant^.  I  never  saw  such  an  obstinate 
mule  in  all  my  days. 

Zelig.   I'll  bet  he'll  fall  asleep  altogether. 

Michel.  Let  him  sleep,  then.  That's  the  best  thing 
for  him. 

Berre.  Ah-h!  I  know  whenever  I  take  a  swallow  of 
brandy.  ...I...  I.  ..I  become  a  new  man  en- 
tirely. And  maybe  Isaac  wasn't  a  drinker  in  his  day ! 
Hm !     I  don't  know  what's  come  over  him. 

Leivik  [to  Zelig].  Is  he  really  sleeping,  Zelig? 

Zelig.  I  think  so.  [Shakes  Isaac]  Are  you  asleep, 
Isaac? 

Leivik.  You  clown ! 

Hilye  [singing].  "Sleep,  little  birdie,  close  your 
sweet  eyes.  .  .  ." 

Michel.  There's  a  crowd  for  you ! 

Temme.  His  dinner  will  get  cold.  [Arising.]  I'll 
take  it  down  to  Ida's  and  put  it  into  her  oven. 

Isaac  [sits  up  and  takes  out  his  handkerchief]. 

Temme  [frightened].  Look.  He's  been  crying! 
[Leivik,  Berre,  Zelig  and  Malke  jump  up  from  their 
placesi  with  an  exclamation:  "  Crying!  "  They  come 
over  to  Isaac  and  look  upon  him  with  deep  concern.] 


Act  II]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  53 

Michel  [shakes  his  head  and  speaks  in  a  tone  of  bit- 
ter disgust].  Crying! 

HiLYE  and  Sender  [look  -with  curiosity  towards  Isaac, 
but  remain  in  their  places,  continuing  their  work]. 

Yoshke  [comes  from  his  table  and  looks  with  curi- 
osity at  Isaac]. 

Berre.  You're  no  kind  of  man  at  all,  Isaac.  Pooh ! 
Upon  my  word.  If  I  knew  that,  I  certainly  wouldn't 
have  urged  you  to  drink.  Really,  you're  no  kind  of  man 
at  all. 

Hi  LYE.  Let  him  go  home  and  sleep  it  off. 

Berre.  That's  a  good  idea.  Go  home  and  sleep  it 
oil".  What  are  you  crying  about?  Pooh!  Upon  my 
word  it's  a  shame  and  a  disgrace.  Take  my  advice  and 
go  home.  So  you  won't  work  to-day,  either.  Imagine 
you're  still  at  your  invention.  Go  on  home.  Here.  .  .  . 
Here's  the  rest  of  the  rouble.  Take  it.  See?  I'm  put- 
ting it  into  your  pocket.  Are  there  any  holes  in  your 
pocket?  [Feels  Isaac's  pocket.]  No  holes.  Now  go 
home, 

Isaac  [sinks  forward  on  his  arms  again.  His  whole 
body  is  convulsed  with  his  quiet  weeping]. 

Leivik.   Really,  Isaac,  you're  .  .  . 

Berre.  It's  the  first  time  in  my  life  that  I  see  any- 
thing like  this. 

HiLYE  [to  Sender].  Look,  will  you!  Temme  is  cry- 
ing, too ! 

Temme  [drying  her  eyes].  Hilye,  you've  got  a  heart 
of  stone. 

Leivik  [coming  over  to  Isaac].  Isaac.  It's  a  shame. 
.  .  .  Really.  .  .  . 

Isaac.  Let  me  alone.  .  .  .  Let  me  be.  ...  I  must 
...  I  must  .   .   . 

Berre   [coming    over    to    Isaac].  What    must    you. 


64  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  II 

what?  You  mustn't  anything.  Did  you  ever  hear  the 
like?     He  must  cry  I 

Isaac   [angrily'].  Let  me  alone! 

Berre  [with  a  deprecatory  gesture].  You  see.  It's 
like  dealing  with  a  madman.  [The  workers  return  to 
their  places.] 

Leivik   [sadly].  H'm! 

Berre.  It's  the  first  time  in  my  life  that  .  .  . 

Malke.  Bah !     I  don't  like  to  see  a  man  cry. 

Zelig   [moved] .  The  poor  fellow ! 

Temme    [takes  the  pot  and  goes  out]. 

SILENCE 

Isaac  [gradually  stops  weeping  and  finally  is  silent. 
The  workers  glance  often  in  his  direction]. 

GoLDiN  [enters.  Walks  over  to  Isaac  and  makes  a 
gesture  of  astonishment].  What's  he  lying  there  for,  I'd 
like  to  know ! 

Malke.  He's  just  been  crying. 

GoLDiN.  Crying?  WTiat  do  you  mean,  he's  been  cry- 
ing? Because  his  machine  was  a  failure?  [Waking 
Isaac]  Say,  Isaac.  What  were  you  crying  about? 
Wake  up !  [Notices  the  brandy  flask.]  Who's  been 
drinking  here?     Was  it  Isaac? 

Malke.  He  hasn't  eaten  anything  all  day  long,  so 
they  told  him  to  take  some  brandy  for  an  appetizer. 

GoLDiN.  In  plain  words,  then,  he  got  drunk.  Bah! 
First  you  couldn't  get  him  to  move  from  his  house,  be- 
cause he  was  fussing  around  a  machine  of  his.  And 
now,  when  he  finally  does  come  back  to  work,  he  gets  as 
soused  as  a  pig  and  falls  asleep. 

Isaac  [7noves  nervously,  raises  his  head  and  lets  it 
fall  immediately]. 

GoLDiN.  If  you're  drunk,  go  home  and  sleep  it  oflP 


Act  II]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  66 

there.  I  don't  need  any  drunkards  around  here. — 
Where's  Temme? 

Isaac  [slcnciy  arising].  Are  you  angry  because  I 
didn't  brmg  you  a  third  machine  ? 

GoLDiN.  You  pig,  you!  You  and  your  machines  can 
go  to  the  devil  together!     Where's  Temme,  I  say? 

Malke.  Isaac's  wife  was  here  and  brought  him  his 
dinner.  And  Temme  took  the  pot  to  Ida's,  so  that  it 
shouldn't  get  cold. 

GoLDiN.  And  hasn't  she  anything  else  to  do  besides 
warming  his  pots  ? 

Isaac.  And  if  I'd  have  brought  you  the  machine  you 
wouldn't  be  so  angry  now.      [Enter  Temme.] 

GoLDiN.  Where've  you  been?  Eh?  It's  your  busi- 
ness to  sit  and  work, —  not  take  care  of  his  pots!  I 
don't  pay  you  or  anybody  else  to  be  his  servant. 

Isaac  [scarcely  able  to  restrain  his  anger].  I  didn't 
ask  her. 

Temme.  It  didn't  take  more  than  a  minute.  His  din- 
ner would  have  got  cold. 

GoLDiN.  Not  even  a  second.  Let  him  eat  it  cold  or 
not  eat  it  at  all.  It's  none  of  your  concern.  You're 
supposed  to  sit  and  work. 

Isaac  Is  that  how  deeply  interested  you  were  in  my 
machine? 

GoLDiN  [furious].  To  the  devil  with  you  and  your 
machines  —  I've  told  you  once  already.  Now, —  do  you 
understand?     For  all  I  care  you  may  .  .  . 

Orke  [comes  running  in].  What's  all  the  hollering 
about? 

GoLDiN.  He  comes  here,  gets  dead  drunk  .  .  . 

Isaac  [banging  his  fist  against  the  looTn],  Stop  that 
talk  about  "  drunk,"  I  teU  you !  Do  you  understand  me 
or  not? 


56  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  II 

GoLDiN  [his  mouth  agape  with  astonishment.  All 
ztfork  comes  to  a  standstill]. 

Orke.  My  !     My !     The  fellow's  really  angry ! 

Isaac.  Don't  talk  to  me  about  getting  drunk.  Talk 
to  your  own  son. 

GoLDiN.  You  brazen-faced  fool!     You  insolent  pig! 

Michel  and  Berre   [surround  Goldin]. 

Leivik  and  Zelig   [hold  Isaac  back]. 

Michel.  Stop  it,  Notte, — can't  you  see  what  a  fuss 
you're  starting? 

Leivik.  Calm  yourself,  calm  yourself,  Isaac. 

Orke   [to  Isaac].  You  needn't  drag  me  into  this. 

Berre.  Orke  .  .  ah !  .  .  Have  some  common  sense.  .  . 

Leivik    [to  Isaac].  Calm  yourself.     Calm  yourself. 

GoLDiN    [to  Isaac].  You're  through  working  here. 

Isaac.  You  bet  I  am.  But  before  I  go,  you'll  please 
give  me  back  my  press  and  my  braiding-machine. 

Orke  [putting  his  hands  to  his  ears.  Mockingly]. 
What.^  Give  you  back  what.''  I  didn't  hear  that.  Re- 
peat that,  please. 

GoLDiN.  Your  press  and  your  machine?  You  were 
well  paid  for  them. 

Isaac  [makes  a  threatening  motion.  Leivik  and 
Zelig  hold  him  back], 

Zelig.  Calm.     Be  calm. 

GoLDiN.  The  nerve  of  the  man  to  want  back  his  ma- 
chines !  His,  he  calls  them.  I  paid  you  for  them,  and 
they're  mine,  not  yours. 

Orke.  His  press  and  his  machine !  Such  wonderful 
inventions,  such  marvelous  brain-products !  You  can  see 
what  you're  good  for.  Fussed  and  fussed  around  for 
three  days.  .  .  . 

Isaac.  "  Marvelous  brain-products  " —  Can  you  do 
better  ? 


Act  II]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  67 

Orke.  Pff !     But  where's  your  new  machine? 

Isaac.   I'm  asking  you.     Can  you  do  better.'* 

Orke.  And  I'm  asking  you:  where's  your  new  ma- 
chine? 

GoLDiN.  What  are  you  wasting  words  with  him  for? 
Here,  Yoshke.  Run  over  and  call  Shmerel.  Tell  him 
the  job's  open  for  him,  and  that  he  can  come  to  work 
right  away.     And  enough  of  this  talk. 

YosHKE   [reluctantly  prepares  to  go'\. 

Isaac  [arises,  snatches  his  coat  and  walks  slowly  to- 
wards the  door,  accompanied  by  Leivik  and  Zelig,  who 
are  calming  him.  Suddenly  he  rushes  upon  the  press, 
lifts  it  in  the  air,  throws  himself  upon  the  machine  and 
smashes  it  under  his  feet  so  that  its  parts  fly  in  all  di- 
rections]. Now  I  can  leave!  .  .  .  Now  I  can  leave.  .  .  . 
[Leivik  and  Zelig  and  Berre  try  to  restrain  him  from 
breaking  the  machines.] 

GoLDiN.  Call  the  police!  Police!  Orke,  run  for  a 
policeman  I 

Orke.  Hilye,  run  for  a  policeman ! 

Isaac  [still  stepping  upon  parts  of  the  machines  and 
smashing  them].  Now  I  can  leave!  [Tears  himself 
out  of  the  men's  hands  and  walks  through  the  door  as 
calmly  as  possible.] 

GoLDiN  and  Orke  [rush  after  him.  They  are  held 
back]. 

Goi/DiN.  Call  a  policeman,  I  say !     Call  the  police ! 

Isaac  [from  the  yard].  Take  tliis !  [A  stone  comes 
crashing  through  the  window,  smashes  all  the  panes  and 
hits  Orke  in  the  side.  A  cry  of  "  Oh!  "  arises  from  all 
the  bystanders]. 

Orke.  He's  killed  me ! 

GoLDiN.  Call  the  police  !     Police  I 

curtain 


ACT  III 

Isaac's  cellar-dwelling.  It  is  late  night,  of  the  same  day 
as  the  two  previous  acts.  On  the  table  burns  a 
lamp,  whose  glass  chimney  is  thickly  covered  with 
soot.  The  room  is  half  dark.  Only  shadows,  black 
silhouettes,  are  visible. 

GisHiNKE  [sits  in  the  forward  bed,  crying^.  Ma! 
Ma! 

PiNYE  [standing  close  to  her,  muttering].  Dead. 
Dead. 

GisHiNKE  [crossly].  She  didn't  die!  Ma  isn't  dead! 
You're  dead ! 

PiNYE.  Everything  is  dead.     Dead. 

GiSHiNKE    [crying  louder].   No.     She  isn't  dead  ! 

PiNYE.  Dead.  Dead.  Heaven.  Earth.  And  God. 
And  God.  Buried  in  the  dead  heaven.  Covered  with 
the  dead  earth.  And  everything  is  cold  and  dark.  And 
cold.     And  dark.  .  .  . 

GisHiNKE.  Ma-a-a-ma!     Where  is  mamma? 

PiNYE.  Dead.     All  are  dead. 

GisHiNKE  [at  the  top  of  her  lungs].  No!  She  isn't 
dead!  She  isn't  dead!  Mamma  isn't  dead!  [Gelye 
enters  from  her  room.  Soon  after  her  comes  Hinde  from 
her  room.  Both  wear  nightgowns  and  are  wrapped  in 
large  shawls.] 

Gelye  [to  Pinye].  What  are  you  standing  there  for 
scaring   the  life   out  of  her?     Go  over  to  vour  place. 

58 


Act  III]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  59 

[To   GisHiNKE.]     Don't   cry,   Gishinke.     Your  mother 
will  soon  be  back. 

PiNYE  [zcalks  back  sloxvly  to  his  place  and  sits  down. 
From  time  to  time  he  utters  strange,  tearful  sobsl. 

HiNDE.  What's  the  kid  bawling  about? 

Gishinke.  Where's  my  mamma.'' 

Gelye.  The  old  lunatic  came  over  to  her.  .  .  . 

Gishinke.  She  didn't  die,  did  she.'* 

Gelye   [continuing],  .  .  ,  And  .  .  . 

Hinde   [to  Gishinke].  Your  mamma'll  soon  be  here. 

Gelye.  The  poor  child's  crying  her  eyes  out. 

Hinde.  Something  must  have  happened  to  Isaac. 
Goldin  must  have  had  him  arrested.  But  why  doesn't 
Bay  lye  come  back? 

Gishinke   [crying].  Mamma  isn't  coming. 

Gelye.  Go  to  sleep,  Gishinke.  Your  mamma'll  be 
right  back.     We'll  sit  down  near  you.     All  right? 

Gishinke.  I  want  my  mamma. 

Gelye  [wrapping  the  bedclothes  about  Gishinke  and 
sitting  down  beside  her].  There.  Quiet.  That's  a  good 
girl.  We'll  sit  right  near  you.  See?  Hinde  has  sat 
down,  too.     And  your  mamma'll  be  here  right  away. 

Hinde.  Sleep,  Gishinke,  sleep. 

Gishinke    [a  trifle  reassured].  Mamma  hasn't  died. 

Gelye.  What  put  that  into  your  head?  Of  course 
your  mother  hasn't  died. 

Gishinke.  Hasn't  died? 

Gelye.  No,  no.  You  silly  little  girl.  Your  mamma 
hasn't  died.     Go  to  sleep. 

Hinde.  The  old  fellow  makes  everybody  sick  with  his 
eternal  chatter  about  dead  heavens  and  dead  earths. 

Gishinke.  And  my  papa  hasn't  died,  either? 

Gelye.  Sleep.     Sleep,  Gishinke.     Nobody  has   died. 

Hinde.  Who    can    tell    what's    happened    to    Isaac? 


60  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  III 

Haven't  you  heard  what  took  place  in  the  factory  to- 
day?    He  had  a  fit  of  crying. 

Gelye.  They  got  him  drunk  first. 

GiSHiNKE.  When'll  mamma  come? 

Gelye.  Soon.     Soon.     Fall  asleep,  now, 

HiNDE.  .  .  .  And  he  smashed  his  press  and  the  braid- 
ing-machine. 

SozYE  [enters  in  petticoat  and  jacket,  her  hands 
folded  across  her  bosom.  She  feels  very  cold].  Well? 
What's  the  news?  [Walks  over  to  the  bed.]  Oh! 
This  is  Gelye !  I  thought  you  were  talking  to  Baylye 
here.     Hasn't  Baylye  come  back  yet? 

Gelye.  Neither  Baylye  nor  Isaac. 

SozYE.  That's  very  strange. 

GiSHiNKE    [to  Sozye].  Mamma  hasn't  died. 

HiNDE.  My!     What  a  time  they  had  there! 

GisHiNKE   [to  Sozye].  And  papa  hasn't  died,  either. 

Gelye.  Sleep.  Sleep.  If  you  don't  go  to  sleep,  we'll 
go  away  and  leave  you  all  alone. 

GisHiNKE.  No.     Don't  go  'way. 

Gelye.  Then  go  to  sleep.  [Runs  her  hand  through 
Gishinke's  hair  and  hums  a  lullaby.] 

HiNDE.  It  must  have  been  terrible  there.  He  took  a 
big  stone  and  smashed  a  couple  of  window  panes.  .  .  . 

Sozye.  Are  you  talking  about  Isaac? 

Gelye.  That's  why  I  reckon  that  Goldin  has  certainly 
had  him  locked  up. 

HiNDE.  It's  quite  likely.  They  must  have  caught 
him  in  the  streets. 

Sozye  [shivering].  Brrr !  How  that  son  of  his  came 
running  here  with  a  policeman,  and  searched  our 
room.  .  .  . 

Gelye.  Ours  too. 

HiNDE.  I  shivered  all  over,  like  a  leaf. 


Act  III]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  61 

Gelye,  I  wanted  to  throw  something  in  his  face.  .  .  . 

HiNDE.   The  fop! 

Gelye.  The  loafer! 

HiNDE.  The  cheap  sport!  Clean  shaven,  curled  mus- 
tache, his  hat  on  one  side,  rings  on  his  fingers.  .  .  . 

SozYE   [shivering'].     And  the  way  he  dresses! 

Gelye.  This  morning,  when  we  left  the  house  to- 
gether, he  simply  insisted  that  I  tell  him  where  I  was 
going,  and  that  I  let  him  carry  my  bundle  .  .  .  and  he 
asked  what  I  do,  and  where  I  usually  go  walking  .  .  . 

HiNDE.  Do  you  think  he's  handsome.''  I  don't  take 
him  for  a  good-looking  fellow,  at  all.  His  eyes  are 
so  .  .  . 

Gelye.  .  .  .  And  he  asked  where  I  go  walking,  and 
with  whom.  And  he  made  such  queer  motions,  and  bows. 
.  .  .   [^Mocking  Orke.]     This  way,  and  that  way.  .  .  . 

SozYE   [to  Hinde].  Do  you  know  whom  he  looks  like.'' 

HiNDE   [after  a  moment's  thonght].  Whom? 

SozYE.  Like  Kopelyovitz. 

HiNDE.  What?  Not  in  the  least.  Kopelyovitz  is 
taller,  and  has  blond  hair.  .  .  . 

SozYE.  Yes,  but    .  .  .  His  lips  .  .  .  his  nose  .  .  . 

Hinde.  You're  'way  off.  You  don't  know  what 
you're  talking  about. 

Sozye.  .  .  .  He  escorted  me  up  to  Vichman's  door. 
...  I  was  bringing  something  to  Vichman's,  you  know 
.  .  .  and  he  took  me  right  up  to  Vichman's  door;  I  sim- 
ply couldn't  get  rid  of  him. 

HiNDE.  And  with  all  his  other  virtues,  he's  such  a 
coarse  fellow  too. 

SozYE.  Yes.     And  he  mentions  such  improper  things. 

Gelye.  He  said  nothing  improper  to  me.  He'd  have 
caught  it  from  me  if  he  ever  dared.  But  he  kept  pay- 
ing such   exaggerated  compliments.      [Mocking  Orke.] 


63  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  III 

This  way,  and  that  way.  "  You're  such  a  clever  young 
lady,  and  so  .  .  ."  [^There  is  a  knocking  at  the  outer 
door.     She  jumps  to  her  feet.^ 

HiNDE.  It's  Baylye,  I  guess. 

SozYE  [^shivering  with  the  cold,  she  goes  to  open  the 
door^.  Brrr.  .  .  .  Brrr.  .  .  , 

HiNDE.  I'm  terrible  anxious  to  know  what's  happen- 
ing to  Isaac. 

SozYE    [crying  oufj.  Oh! 

Zelig  [in  the  entry'\.  Don't  be  scared.  I  called  to 
see  whether  Isaac  has  come  home  yet. 

SozYE    [comes  back  into  the  rooml. 

Zelig   [following  her.     He  wears  a  black  coat"]. 

Gelye  and  Hinde  [hurriedly  put  their  hair  and 
clothes  in  order.  The  three  girls,  attempting  to  hide 
their  partial  undress,  come  close  together"]. 

Zelig.  Is  he  here  already? 

Hinde.  No.     Not  yet. 

Gelye.  And  Baylye  isn't  here  yet,  either. 

Zelig.  She  must  still  be  looking  for  him.  I  went  to 
several  of  his  friends,  looked  through  quite  a  few  streets 
—  but  he's  not  to  be  heard  or  seen. 

Gelye.  If  he  hasn't  been  arrested,  I'm  afraid  he's 
done  something  desperate  to  himself. 

SozYE.  Goldin's  son  was  here  with  a  policeman. 

Zelig.  I  know.  Maybe  we  didn't  do  our  best  to  hold 
him  back! 

Hinde.  Came  dashing  in  here.  [Imitating  Orke.] 
"Where  is  he?     Produce  Isaac  at  once!     I'll  .  .  ." 

SozYE.  And  then  he  searched  the  whole  place  for  him. 

Zelig.  Orke  wanted  to  show  off.  [Imitating  Orke's 
voice.]     "  Where  is  he?     I  want  him!  " 

Sozye  [to  the  others].  Yes!  That's  just  how  he  hol- 
lered ! 


Act  III]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  63 

Zelig.  I  know  him  inside  out.  [Imitating  Orke's 
7notions.'\  "Where  is  he?  Produce  Isaac  at  once!  I 
must  have  him!  .  .   ."      [All  laugh.] 

SozYE  [to  the  others].  That's  Orke  to  a  dot! 

Zelig.  He  was  here  early  this  morning,  too,  wasn't 

he? 

Gelye  [zcith  an  ironic  gesture,  arid  pressing  her  lips 
together].  We  had  the  honor. 

Zelig.  And  he  went  walking  with  one  of  you. 

Gelye  [same  as  before,  and  with  mock  pride].  With 
myself. 

SozYE  [to  the  others].  Goodness!  But  how  news 
does  spread ! 

Zelig.  And  he's  already  been  talking  about  being  a 
more  frequent  visitor  hereabouts. 

HiNDE.  As  if  we  haven't  enough  troubles  already. 

Gelye    [ironically].  We  need  him  badly. 

Zelig,  But  isn't  he  a  handsome  chap? 

Gelye.  A  regular  picture! 

HiNDE.  Ugh  !     Such  queer  eyes. 

Zelig.  And  yet  he's  so  popular  with  the  girls. 

Gelye  [shaking  her  head  and  pressing  her  lips  to- 
gether]. H'mm!     You  don't  say! 

HiNDE.  He?! 

SozYE  [looks  at  the  other  girls  and  laughs  in  sur- 
prise], 

Gelye.  He  insisted  on  accompanying  me  through  the 
streets,  and  I  just  couldn't  get  rid  of  him. 

Zelig  [shaking  his  head].  Oh!  Orke,  Orke!  Bad 
luck  to  you! 

Sozye.  I  could  swear  that  somebody's  at  the  door. 
[The  door  is  pushed  open  from  outside.] 

Zelig.  Yes.  Somebody's  there.  [They  take  a  few 
steps  towards  the  door.] 


64  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  III 

Berre  [^enters.  He  wears  an  expression  of  dejection 
and  worry,  as  if  he  felt  guilty  of  what  had  happened.^ 

Zelig.  Why !     It's  Berre ! 

Berre.  Zelig!  [^Looks  about  him.]  Is  Isaac  here 
already  ? 

Zelig.  Neither  Isaac  nor  his  wife. 

Berre.  She  must  be  running  all  around  the  town. 
And  he  isn't  here.''  He  must  be  somewhere,  sleeping  off 
his  spree. 

Zelig.  Unless  Goldin  has  had  him  arrested. 

Berre.  About  two  hours  ago,  around  nine  o'clock,  he 
was  at  Rivve  Shaynin's  tavern. 

Zelig.  How  did  you  learn  that? 

Berre.  I  was  looking  for  him  high  and  low,  so  I  went 
to  Rivve  Shaynin's  tavern,  too. 

HiNDE.  That's  at  the  other  end  of  the  town,  if  I'm  not 
mistaken. 

Zelig  [Hitting  Berre  over  the  shoulder"].  I  guess 
Berre  knows  where  all  the  taverns  are. 

Berre.  Clown !  I  went  in  to  see  whether  Isaac  was 
there. —  And  he  had  really  been  there,  stayed  a  couple 
of  hours,  didn't  say  a  word  to  anybody,  and  drank  down 
one  glass  after  another.  They  say  he  sat  there  in  such 
a  rage  that  everybody  took  him  for  a  madman.  He  left 
the  place  dead  drunk.     Where  he  went,  nobody  knows. 

Zelig.  I'll  bet  he's  lying  in  some  ditch. 

HiNDE    [coquettishly].  Ugh! 

SozYE   [with  a  shudder].  Brrr! 

Zelig.  Are  you  folks  cold.'' 

SozYE.  Just  a  strange  feeling.  .  .  .  Brrr ! 

Zelig.  A  young  girl  ought  never  to  be  cold. 

Hinde.  She's  always  freezing. 

SozYE.  I  don't  know.     I  feel  so  queer.  .  .  .  Brrr ! 

Berre   [who  has  been  standing  absorbed  in  thought. 


Act  III]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  65 

his  gaze  upon  the  floor'\.  I  really  don't  know  where  else 
I  can  hunt  for  him.  I  went  to  several  other  tav- 
erns. .  .  . 

Zelig.  That's  understood. 

Berre  [scornfully].  Tfu!  You  clown!  [The  outer 
door  is  opened.] 

Baylye  [comes  running  in].  What!  He  is  already 
here?  [She  sees  at  once  that  Isaac  is  not  there.]  Not 
here  yet?  [Bursting  into  tears.]  I'm  sure  he's  done 
something  desperate  to  himself.  O,  God  in  Heaven, 
what  a  misfortune  has  .  .  . 

HiNDE,  At  nine  o'clock  he  was  seen  at  Rivve  Shay- 
nin's  tavern. 

Berre.  Yes.  Nine  o'clock.  And  he  left  the  place 
dead  drunk.  Where  he  went  to,  I  don't  know.  I've 
been  hunting  for  him  all  night. 

Zelig.  I,  too.     But  the  city's  an  awful  big  place. 

Baylye  [her  voice  choked  with  tears].  I  searched 
everywhere.  And  I  made  a  terrible  scene  at  the  Goldins' 
home.  I  threw  myself  on  the  floor  and  begged  them  to 
give  me  back  Isaac,  to  tell  me  where  he  was.  Mrs.  Gol- 
din  swore  by  her  life  that  they  hadn't  had  him  arrested. 
[Moaning,  wringing  her  hands.]  Oh,  I  know  he  has 
committed  something  desperate.     How  can  I  bear  it  all? 

Gelye.  No.  Not  that.  He  must  be  lying  some- 
where, drunk. 

Hinde.  In  some  gutter. 

Sozye.  Brrr! 

Baylye  [lamenting].  Unhappy  woman  that  I  am! 
That  I  should  have  lived  to  see  this  day ! 

Berre.  They  told  me  there  that  he  was  dead  drunk  — 
that  he  could  barely  stand  on  his  feet. 

Baylye  [as  before].  Oh!  Woe  is  me!  .  .  .  And  he 
borrowed  a  rouble,  too. 


66  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  III 

Berre.  And  it  was  I  who  put  the  change  in  his  pocket. 
If  I  had  foreseen  such  an  outcome  .  .  . 

Zelig.  You'd  have  put  it  into  your  own  pocket. 

Berre  [angrily'].  For  shame.  Clown!  Nothing  but 
his  jokes  for  any  occasion  at  all.  [Zelig,  Sozye,  and 
HiNDE  laugh.] 

Baylye  [hysterical,  running  about  the  room'].  Oh! 
May  flames  consume  Rivve  Shaynin  and  her  tavern  to- 
gether. May  all  trace  of  her  be  wiped  out  in  a  single 
night.  When  she  sees  that  a  Jew  wants  to  get  drunk, 
she  shouldn't  sell  him  any  liquor. 

Gelye.  Much  the  tavern-keeper  cares  who  wants  to 
get  drunk. 

HiNDE.  Little  difference  it  makes, —  whether  it's  a 
Jew  or  a  Gentile. 

Zelig.  As  long  as  he  has  the  price  or  something  to 
pawn —     Eh,  Berre? 

Berre  [angrily].  There's  no  being  serious  with  you! 
[Zelig,  Hinde  and  Sozye  laugh.] 

Baylye  [as  before].  Where  shall  I  look  for  him  now? 
Where  can  I  even  begin  to  hunt  for  him?  Where  can  I 
even  begin  to  hunt  for  him?  [Wailing.]  I  can't  stand 
it  any  longer.  Suicide  is  the  only  way  out.  Good  God 
in  Heaven!  [The  outer  door  is  opened.  All  move  to- 
ward the  door.     Enter  Leivik  and  Sender.] 

Leivik.  Well?     Is  he  already  here? 

Baylye.  Not  at  all !  May  he  so  dwell  among  the  liv- 
ing. .  .  . 

Leivik.  Petrush,  the  watchman,  told  me  that  this 
afternoon,  around  two  or  three  o'clock,  he  saw  a  young 
man  in  the  woods.  He  says  the  fellow  ran  about  wildly, 
beat  the  tree  trunks  with  his  fists,  tore  the  bark  from 
them,  bit  them,  and  struck  his  head  against  them.  Ac- 
cording to  his  description,  I  think  it  was  Isaac, 


Act  hi]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  67 

Baylye  [bringing  her  hands  to  her  head].  He's 
surely  gone  mad.     Oh !     Oh ! 

Leivik.  So  I  called  Sender,  and  we  both  went  to  the 
woods,  to  the  place  where  the  watchman  said  he  saw  him. 
But  we  found  nobody. 

Sender.  I  claimed  beforehand  that  our  going  was  use- 
less. A  fine  chance  you've  got  to  find  a  person  in  the 
woods, —  especially  at  night. 

Leivik.  Just  the  same  I'd  have  kept  on  searching. 
By  the  light  of  the  moon.  .  .  . 

Sender.  Then  why  didn't  you  remain  there? 
Hinde.  At  nine  o'clock  this  evening  he  was  at  Rivve 
Shaynin's  tavern. 

Berre.     Well.     That's  right  near  the  woods. 
Baylye   [weeping].  Then    he    must    certainly    have 
gone  back  into  the  woods.     How  can  we  look  for  him.^ 
How  shall  we  find  him? 

Zelig.  You'll  find  him  dead  drunk.  Berre  says  that 
he  was  barely  able  to  stand  on  his  feet. 

Berre.  I  didn't  see  him.  That's  merely  what  I  was 
told. 

Baylye.  Where  can  we  look  for  him?  Where  can  we 
find  him? 

Hinde.  Maybe  he  really  went  back  into  the  woods. 
Baylye.  He  got  drunk  and  did   violence  to  himself. 
[Wailing.]      What's    to   be   done?     What   can   we   even 
begin  to  do?     Let's  be  off  to  the  woods. 

Sender.  Ha!  You  talk  like  a  child.  Think  of  her 
wanting  to  hunt  for  a  person  in  the  woods,  at  niglit. 
And  here  we  are,  just  coming  from  the  woods  our- 
selves. 

Leivik.     We  could  all  go. 

Zelig  [to  the  girls].  Do  you  want  to  come  to  the 
woods  ? 


68  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  III 

HiNDE  and  Sozye  [look  at  Gelye,  to  see  what  she 
thinks  of  the  proposal]. 

Gelye,  It's  a  useless  task.  The  trouble  will  be  in 
vain. 

Berre.  That's  so.     Where  can  we  go,  for  instance? 

Sender.  And  here  we've  just  come  from  there,  too. 

Zelig  [nudges  Sender  significantly,  and  nods  his 
head  in  the  direction  of  the  girls]. 

Sender   [with  a  wry  face].  Ow! 

Baylye  [wrings  her  hands].  What's  to  be  done? 
What  can  we  begin  to  do  ?     What  can  we  begin  to  do  ? 

Berre.  He'll  sleep  it  off  somewhere,  I  tell  you,  and 
then  come  home. 

Gelye.  And  who  knows  whether  it  was  really  Isaac 
that  the  watchman  saw  in  the  woods  ? 

Leivik.  It  was,  according  to  Petrush's  description. 
Middle  height.     Blond  beard.     Derby. 

Sender.  There's  a  description  for  you!  Is  he  the 
only  man  that's  of  middle  height  and  that  wears  a 
derby  ? 

Baylye  [running  about].  What's  to  be  done? 
Where  can  we  look?  Where  can  we  find  him?  [Sits 
down  upon  the  further  bed  and  weepS'.] 

SILENCE 

Sender  [whispers  something  to  Leivik,  indicating  the 
girls.     Leivik  listens,  distraught]. 

Zelig   [to  the  girls].  An  awful  night,  isn't  it? 

Gelye   [sighing].  Yes.     A  night  of  horrors. 

HiNDE.  Ah!     Such  a  night. 

Sozye    [shivering].  Brrr ! 

Zelig  [to  Leivik  and  Sender].  Did  you  ever  know  a 
young  lady  as  cold  as  this  one? 


Act  III]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  69 

Sender.  It's  really  an  awful  pity. — 

[^Pause.  Baylye's  weeping  is  heard.  Berre  stands 
scratching  his  beard.  Sender  and  Zelio  stand  opposite 
the  girls.  They  would  like  to  open  a  conversation  with 
them,  and  the  girls  are  expecting  it.  Meanwhile  the 
girls  seek  the  best  poses  they  can  assume,  and  cast  sym- 
pathetic glances  towards  Baylye.  Leivik,  too,  looks  at 
the  girls,  but  something  is  on  his  mifid.] 

Zelig  [to  the  girls].  I  was  telling  Isaac  to-day  to  give 
a  ball  here  and  to  invite  us. 

Baylye.  You  see  the  kind  of  a  ball  he's  given. 
[Weeps  louder. 1 

HiNDE.  What  do  you  mean.''  Why  should  he  give  a 
ball?  [Zelig  laughs  and  looks  at  Sender.  Gelye 
shakes  her  head  disapprovingly ,  and  turns  away.] 

Sender  [to  Zelig  and  Leivik,  nodding  towards 
GcElye].  She  understands  why,  I'll  wager. 

Gelye   [as  before].  Little  enough  to  understand. 

Leivik.  I'm  wondering  and  wondering  where  we  can 
look  for  him. 

Berre.  There's  nothing  left  to  do  now.  We'll  have 
to  wait  till  to-morrow  morning.  That's  all  there  is  to  it. 
And  now  it's  time  to  go  home.  [Balyle  continues  to 
weep.  Pause.]  Well,  I'm  going  home.  Good  night 
to  you  all.  What's  the  use  of  my  idling  here?  Good 
night,  all.      [Exit.] 

Zelig  [to  Sender].  Shall  we  be  going,  too? 

Sender.  What  else  can  we  do  ? 

Zelig.  And  you,  Leivik? 

Leivik.  We'd  better  go.  We  can't  do  anything  else 
now. 

Zelig  [to  the  girls].  Well,  as  hard  as  it  is  for  me  to 
tear  myself  away  .  .  . 

Berrc   [his   voice   is  heard  from   the  street],  Isaac! 


10  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  III 

Isaac!  [Ail  rush  to  the  door  and  run  outside.  The 
room  is  left  empty,  except  for  the  sleeping  Gishinke 
and  old  Pinye.] 

PiNYE  [stands  still  at  the  door,  and  speaks  in  a  moan' 
ing  tone'].  Desolate!     Desolate!      [Moans.] 

Isaac  [enters,  led  by  Berre  and  Leivik.  He  is  still 
drunk  and  cannot  stand], 

Zelig  [following  them,  jumping  and  clapping  his 
hands].  He's  here!  He's  here!  He's  here!  He's 
here!      [Bayi^ye  comes  back.] 

Berre  [cheered  by  Isaac's  return,  he  speaks  freely 
and  happily,  as  if  his  guilt  in  Isaac's  spree  had  been 
redeemed].  I  go  up  the  cellar-steps  and  I  see  some- 
body standing  there, —  leaning  against  the  wall.  One 
of  his  hands  here,  the  other  there, —  and  he  is  staring 
at  the  moon, —  like  this.  I  take  another  look:  it's 
Isaac ! 

Isaac  [in  a  drunken,  dejected  voice].  Wliat  are  you 
so  happy  about  .^ 

Berre.  Happy  about?  Why,  man,  we've  been  look- 
ing for  you  all  night.  And  there  he  was,  standing  like 
this,  staring  at  the  .  .  . 

Baylye.  Where've  you  been  wandering,  drunk  as 
you  are.'' 

Isaac.  I'm  no  longer  tliere. 

Berre.  I  take  a  look.  .  .  .  Who  can  be  standing 
there,  I  ask  myself.  .  .   . 

Baylye  [to  Isaac].  I'll  grab  hold  of  something  and 
split  your  head  open.  I'll  pour  out  all  the  bitterness  of 
my  heart  on  to  your  head, —  your  whole  body  and  soul. 
.  .   .    [They  try  to  quiet  her.] 

Berre.  But,  no,  ha-ha.  ...  I  go  up  nearer  to  him  — 
Lord  of  the  Universe,  who  can  it  be  standing  like  that, 
at  night,  I  ask  myself.     So  I  go  up  nearer  to  him.  .  .  . 


Act  III]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  71 

Baylye.  I'll  teach  him  to  borrow  roubles,  and  spend 
thena  getting  drunk!  [Berre  angrily  motions  her  to 
keep  quiet.  Baylye  sits  down  upon  the  further  bed, 
weeps  and  mumbles  to  herself,  every  now  and  then 
breaking  into  a  curse. 

Leivik   [fo  Isaac].  Were  you  in  the  woods? 

Isaac  [drops  suddenly  upon  the  chair  near  the  bureau 
and  bursts  into  tears'\. 

Zelig  [to  the  girls].  He  cried  to-day  in  the  factory, 
too. 

Baylye.  Let  him  cry  for  his  brains,  and  his  wasted 
days  and  years.  His  machine  is  dearer  to  him  than  his 
wife  and  children. 

Tsippe  [appears  at  her  door,  only  half  awake].  What's 
the  matter? 

Gelye  [hastens  to  her].  Nothing.     Nothing. 

Tsippe.  Has  he  come  already?  Is  that  he  crying? 
WTiat's  he  crying  about? 

Gelye  [pushing  her  back  into  the  room].  Nothing,  I 
told  you.  Nothing.  You'll  know  all  about  it  to-mor- 
row.    Go  to  sleep. 

Tsippe.  And  why  are  you  still  up  ?     It  must  be  late. 

Gelye.  Go,  I'll  soon  come. 

Tsippe.  Wliat's  this  crowd  here  for?  A  regular  wed- 
ding. 

Gelye  [fast  losing  her  patience].  What  are  you  stand- 
ing there  for,  scratching  yourself?  [Pushes  her  back 
into  the  room,  and  closes  the  door.] 

Tsippe  [behind  the  door].  What  are  you  pushing  me 
about  for?     Hey? 

Gelye  [returns  to  her  place.  Sender  and  Zelig  smile 
at  her], 

Isaac  [raising  his  hands  above  his  head].  How  un- 
happy I  feel !     How  unhappy !     How  unhappy !  .  .  . 


72  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  III 

Baylye.  He  feels  unhappy !  May  unhappiness  blight 
his  whole  life !     Goes  and  gets  drunk.  .  .  . 

Isaac.  Leivik,  I  feel  unhappy!  Un-hap-py!  \^Rubs 
his  chest."] 

Leivik.  Why,  Isaac!     You're  acting  just  like  a  child! 

Berre.  In  all  my  life  I've  never  seen  such  a  person! 

Isaac.  Leivik,  I  am  wretched. 

Leivik.  What  do  you  mean,  wretched.''  Don't  be 
foolish. 

Sender.  Don't  be  a  chump,  and  go  to  bed. 

SozYE  [shivering'].  That's  really  the  best  thing  to  do. 

Isaac.  I  feel  wretched,  Leivik. —  Even  you  don't  un- 
derstand me. 

Leivik.  I  understand  you  very  well. 

Baylye  [sarcastically].  He's  so  deep,  you've  got  to 
study  to  understand  him! 

Isaac.  I  feel  wretched,  Leivik. —  I  was  in  the 
woods.     I  was  there  .  .  . 

Leivik.  Petrush,  the  watchman  told  me  that  he  had 
seen  you  there.  We've  been  hunting  for  you  all  night 
long. 

Baylye.  He  wasn't  worth  the  trouble.  The  drunk- 
ard! 

Berre  [motioning  her  to  keep  silent].  Well,  I'm  go- 
ing home  now.  Time  to  go  to  bed.  Who's  coming 
along.''  Nobody?  Then  I'll  go  myself.  Good  night. 
I  advise  all  of  you  to  go  home  and  leave  him  alone  to 
sleep  it  off!  That's  the  best  thing.  Well.  Good 
night.     [Exit.] 

Leivik.  I  guess  I'll  be  going,  too.  Undress,  Isaac, 
and  lie  down  to  sleep. 

Isaac  [seising  Leivik's  hand].  I  feel  wretched.  I 
feel  wretched.  [Leivik  looks  at  the  others,  and  shrugs 
his  shoulders.] 


Act  III]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  73 

Zelig  [to  the  girls].  I  don't  feel  a  bit  sleepy.  In 
fact,  I'd  enjoy  a  nice  walk  now.  It's  such  a  beautiful 
night.     \Mio'll  come  along  r 

Gelye.  Not  I.  I'd  prefer  to  go  to  sleep.  Good 
night,  everybody.      [Runs  into  her  room.] 

Zelig  and  Sender  [boxving].  Good  night,  mademoi- 
selle ! 

Zelig.  And  remember  to  dream  of  me.  [To  Hinde 
and  SozYE.]  Well,  what  do  you  say.^*  [Sozye  looks  to 
Hinde  for  a  reply.] 

HiNDE  [to  Sozye].  Do  you  want  to  go? 

Sozye.  Trifle  too  late,  isn't  it? 

Hinde.  Well,  then  we'll  go  to  sleep,  too.     Good  night. 

Sender.  We,  also. 

Zelig.  Are  you  going  to  stay,  Leivik? 

Leivik  [shows  his  hand,  which  Isaac  still  clutches,  and 
shrugs  his  shoidders], 

[Sender  and  Zelig,  Hinde  and  Sozye,  go  to  the  outer 
door,  where  they  stand  chatting  and  laughing,  out 
of  view.] 

Baylye  [arises,  going  over  to  the  forward  bed  and 
bringing  the  cradle  near  to  it.  She  turns  down  the  wick 
of  the  lamp,  takes  off  her  shoes,  places  the  sleeping 
Gishinke  nearer  to  the  wall,  gets  into  bed  and  covers 
herself]. 

Leitik.  Lie  down  to  sleep,  Isaac.     Go  to  bed. 

Isaac.  My  heart  is  heavy.     My  heart  is  heavy. 

Baylye.  Sober  up  and  it'll  feel  light  again. 

Isaac.  I  was  in  the  woods.  I  went  there  right  from 
the  factory.  You  know  I  didn't  really  want  to  go  there. 
But  I  went,  I  had  to  go.  Something  made  me  go, — 
made  me  rush  onward,  onward,  onward. 

Baylye.  Say  yourself:  isn't  he  talking  like  a  mad- 
man? 


74  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  {Act  III 

Leivik.  You   shouldn't   have  drunk  the  brandy   that 
Berre  gave  you, 

Baylye.  To  borrow  money  and  get  drunk  on  it ! 
Isaac.  I   wouldn't  have  drunk  it.     But  he  brought  it 
close  to  my  nostrils,  and  the  smell  of  it  went  to  my  head, 
and  through  all  my  being,  and  I  had  to  drink. 

Baylye.  Had  to  drink!     He  had  to  drink!     The  law 
forced  him  to ! 

Leivik.  You  should  have  gone  home,  and  to  bed. 
Isaac.  Something  made  me  rush  onward.  I  dashed 
through  the  streets.  And  I  came  to  the  woods.  The 
streets  felt  so  narrow  to  me.  In  the  streets  there  was  no 
room  to  think.  Only  when  I  reached  the  free  fields  did 
I  myself  feel  free,  and  unrestricted.  And  a  heaviness 
came  over  my  heart.  Ah,  how  heavy,  how  heavy,  how 
heavy ! 

Baylye  [angrily].  Go  to  sleep,  and  let  me  sleep,  too. 
Isaac.  Then  only  was  I  able  to  think,  to  understand. 
And  I  felt  it  all, —  I  felt  it  all !  —  [From  the  outer  door 
comes  the  sound  of  laughter.] 

Baylye.  And  those  ninnies  there  are  giggling,  the  .  .  . 
Dobbe  [from  her  room].  What's  going  on  there,  any- 
way?    Hey?      [The  outer  door  is  quickly  closed.] 

HiNDE  [from  the  outer  room],  Isaac's  come  back.  .  .   . 
Dobbe      [as     before].  But     who     just     went     out? 
[Silence.] 

Isaac.  I  felt  that  I  was  an  orphan,  after  having  de- 
stroyed my  press  and  my  machine. 

Leivik.  Now,  aren't  you  the  fool?  You'll  certainly 
be  able  to  .  .  . 

Isaac.  And  in  my  heart  there  was  a  gnawing  misery, 
because  I  was  so  helpless,  so  helpless,  so  helpless.  Do 
you  understand  ?  I  have  the  will,  the  vision,  but  not  the 
ability.     I  want  to  do  something,  you  understand,  and  I 


Act  III]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  75 

can't.  And  yet,  I  can !  Do  you  understand, —  I  Icnow 
that  I  can.  And  .  .  .  And  .  .  .  And  .  .  .  You  said  to- 
day in  the  factory  that  sometimes  when  you  see  a  fine 
painting,  you  become  so  sad,  and  some  one  seems  to  be 
inside  of  you,  tugging  away  at  your  heart,  tugging. 

Leivik.  Just  the  same  you  see  it  doesn't  unnerve  me. 
It  keeps  tugging  away  until  it  stops.  You've  got  to  be 
a  man.  .  .  . 

Baylye  [turning  around  so  that  she  faces  the  waW]. 
A  fine  man  he  is  ! 

Isaac.  I'm  a  different  sort  of  a  person.  I  raised  my 
hands  in  the  open  fields  and  began  to  shriek,  shriek, 
shrie-e-ek ! 

Baylye.  Shriek  your  head  off !  What  are  you  shriek- 
ing now  for?  Let  us  sleep!  He'll  wake  the  children 
yet. 

Isaac.  There  was  something  that  I  wanted  to  shriek 
out  of  me.  Before  my  eyes  stood  the  press  and  the 
braiding-machine,  ruined,  smashed  to  bits,  wrecked.  .  .  . 
My  press,  my  machine. 

Leivik.  Say  yourself,  Isaac.     Aren't  you  the  fool? 

Isaac.  But  all  that  is  nothing  aside  of  the  fact  that  I 
can't  accomplish  the  things  I  feel  in  me, —  I  can't,  I 
can't,  I  can't ! 

Baylye.  Please,  Leivik,  go  home.     Then  he'll  go  to 

bed,  too. 

Isaac.  When  I  came  to  the  woods  I  began  to  beat  the 
trees,  to  bite  them,  to  tear  them,  strike  my  head  against 
them,  my  hands,  my  feet.  And  my  heart  didn't  feel  even 
one  hair  lighter.  I  threw  myself  down  on  the  earth, 
writhed  and  tossed  about.  .  .  . 

Leivik.  Heavens! 

Isaac.  I  tore  up  the  grass,  bit  the  earth.  And  sud- 
denly there  rolled  out  of  my  pocket  a  couple  of  coins. 


76  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  III 

.  .  .  [^His  speech  shows  signs  of  his  extreme  exhaustion.'} 
And  when  I  saw  the  money,  I  was  seized  with  a  desire 
to  drink,  drink,  drink. 

Leivik.   Really,  I  thought  more  of  you  than  that. 

Baylye   [snores,  and  says  something  in  her  sleep]. 

PiNYE  \_arises,  and  commences  to  walk  about  the 
room], 

Leivik.  Well,  I'll  be  going  now.  And  you  go  to 
sleep.  And  be  a  little  bit  more  of  a  man.  You  mustn't 
lose  courage  at  the  very  first! 

Isaac.  The  drinking  didn't  relieve  me.  It  still 
gnawed  and  gnawed  inside  of  me.  And  I  roamed 
through  the  streets,  everywh  —  and  it  kept  on  gnawing, 
gnawing.  Do  you  understand?  There  I  was,  unable  to 
stand  on  my  feet,  yet  my  head  was  clear. 

Leivik.  Have  a  good  sleep  and  you'll  wake  up  a  dif- 
ferent man  in  the  morning. 

Isaac.  You  can  sleep  off  such  thoughts.  But  I  — 
[Shakes  his  head.]  No.  I'll  not  sleep  mine  off.  To- 
morrow, and  the  next  day,  and  the  day  after  next,  I'll 
be  consumed  and  crazed  by  the  thought  that  I  can't  ac- 
complish what  I  feel  in  me, —  that  I  can't,  I  can't. 
Chains  fetter  my  hands,  heavy  weights  oppress  my 
mind.  .  .  . 

Leivik.  That's  why  I'm  telling  you  I  thought  you  had 
more  sense.  You  know  how  badly  I  wanted  to  become 
an  artist.  But  I  say  to  myself,  "  Well,  it  wasn't  to  be. 
That's  all.  If  you  can't  go  over,  you've  got  to  go 
under !  " 

Isaac.  I'm  different,  I  tell  you.  I'm  a  different  sort 
of  person.  No  brandy  can  bring  me  relief,  neither  can 
sleep. 

Leivik.  That  remains  to  be  seen.  Just  have  a  good 
sleep. 


Act  III]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  77 

Isaac  [arises,  uncertain  on  his  feefj.  You  see?  I  can 
barely  stand,  you  see?  Yet  inside  of  me  there's  that 
gnawing  at  my  heart,  and  my  mind  cannot  forget.  It's 
a  trifle  dizzy,  but  it  cannot  forget.  [Takes  a  few  steps 
toward  Leivik,  wavers,  and  falls  with  his  head  towards 
the  cupboard-l 

Baylye  [aroused  by  the  noise].  What's  the  matter? 
What's  the  matter  ? 

Leivik.  Isaac  fell.  I'll  pick  him  up  and  put  him  to 
bed. 

Baylye  [falling  asleep  again].  For  my  part  he  may 
sleep  forever. 

Isaac.  Don't  pick  me  up,  Leivik.  I  feel  all  right  this 
way.     Let  me  lie.     I  don't  need  any  bed. 

Leivik  [raising  him].  But  you  can't  lie  like  this  all 
night  long. 

Isaac.  I'll  lie  right  here.  Don't  pick  me  up,  Leivik. 
Let  the  cold  earth  cool  my  feverish  head.  I  feel  better 
here. 

Leivik.  You're  crazy.  Well,  good-night.  Who'll 
close  the  door? 

Isaac.  You  may  leave  it  open.  No  thieves  will  come 
here. 

Leivik.  Don't  you  think  I'd  better  put  you  into 
bed? 

Isaac.  No.     I  prefer  this  place.     It  cools  my  head. 

Leivik.  Well,  good-night.  [Exit.] 

Isaac.  Good-night,  Leivik. 

HiNDE  [from  the  outer  room].  How  is  he?  Asleep 
already? 

Leivik  [from  the  outer  room].  Not  at  all!  He's  ly- 
ing on  the  floor.  [Leivik  and  Hinde  appear  at  the 
outer  door.] 

Hinde.  Fie !     Get  up,  Isaac ! 


78  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  [Act  in 

Leivik.  Isaac,  hadn't  I  better.  .  .  .  [Isaac  is  silent. 
Leivik  makes  a  gesture  of  despair  and  leaves.^ 

HiNDE.  Dead  drunk,  [Disappears  after  Leivik. 
Both  remain  talking  for  a  while  in  the  outer  room. 
Hinde's  laughter  is  heard,  followed  by  "  Good-night!  " 
from  Leivik.  The  street  door  is  heard  being  closed. 
Silence.  Hinde  appears  once  more  at  the  outer  door, 
looks  at  Isaac,  utters  several  expressions  of  disgust  and 
disappears. —  The  room  becomes  even  darker;  the  glass 
lamp-chimney  has  gathered  soot.  Only  a  small  circle  of 
light  about  the  table  is  visible,  barely  revealing  the  form 
of  PiNYE,  who  walks  about  slowly.'] 

PiNYE  [^soon  coming  to  a  stop  over  Isaac].  Dead. 
Dead. 

Isaac   [^sobbing].  Yes,  Death.     Death. 

PiNYE.  [^resumes  his  pacing].  Dead.  Everything. 
Dark.  Cold.  Dark  and  cold.  And  buried.  And  de- 
cayed. And  devoured  by  worms.  And  dark.  And 
cold.  Cold.  Cold.  \^Stops  and  utters  strange  sounds, 
sharp,  sibilant,  like  those  of  a  moaning  dog.] 

Isaac  [he  has  sat  up  and  buried  his  head  in  his  hands. 
Suddenly  he  turns  around  and  stretches  himself  out  on 
his  stomach,  with  his  face  to  the  cupboard]. 

Baylye  [turning  over  and  talking  in  her  sleep]. 
How  terribly  unhappy  I  am.     Terribly,  terribly  .  .  . 

PiNYE  [ceases  moaning  and  resumes  walking  about]. 
Dark.     Dark.     Dark.      [Moans  as  before.] 

Isaac  [sits  up  suddenly  with  a  horrible  outcry].  Bay- 
lye, I've  swallowed  the  rat-poison!  Baylye!  Quick! 
I've  swallowed  the  poison !  I  didn't  want  to  do  it,  Bay- 
lye, I  don't  want  to  die  !     Baylye,  quick ! 

Baylye  [jumping  out  of  bed,  terrified].  What  has 
happened.^     Good  God!     What  has  happened.'' 


Act  III]  ISAAC  SHEFTEL  79 

Isaac.  Baylye,  I  didn't  mean  to  do  it!  I  didn't  mean 
to!     I  don't  want  to.     I  don't  want  to   .  .  . 

Baylye.  What  don't  you  want.''  Good  God,  what  has 
happened? 

Isaac  [sitting  up,  his  feet  stretched  out  and  his  head 
sinking  over,  his  hands  in  his  hair],  I've  swallowed  tlie 
rat-poison.  I  didn't  want  to  die.  I  don't  want  to  die. 
[Baylye  goes  into  hysterics.  Pinye  stands  over  Isaac, 
inquisitively.  The  children  wake  up  and  commence  to 
cry. —  There  is  a  sound  of  opening  doors  and  pattering 
of  bare  feet.] 

Isaac  [shrieking].  1  don't  want  to  die!  I  don't 
want  to  — ! 

curtain 


THE  LAST  JEW 

A    TRAGEDY    IN    FOUR    ACTS 

[1903-4-] 


-  ■v.- 


AUTHOR'S  FOREWORD 

This  is  not  a  pogrom-tragedy,  but  the  tragedy  of  a 
sole  survivor,  the  tragedy  of  a  moribund  religion,  of  a 
crumbling  world-philosophy.  Who  can  say  that  this  is 
exclusively  Jewish? 


PERSONS  OF  THE  DRAMA 


Reb      Mayshe,      the     city 

preacher. 
Yekef,  his  son. 
MiNYE,  Yekef's  wife. 
Leon      ]  The  sons  of  Ye- 
Reuben  Y      kef  and  Min- 

LlPMAN  J         YE. 

Eda,  granddaughter  of  Reb 

Mayshe  by  another  son. 
Hershman,  a  banker. 
Young  Hershman,  his  son. 
The  Rabbi. 
First  Dayon.^ 
Second  Dayon. 


The     Stout     Synagogue- 
Idler. 

The      Thin     Synagogue- 
Idler. 

The  Yellow  Jew. 

The  Yellow  Jew's  Wife. 

The    Jew    in    the    Soft 
Hat. 

The  Jew  in  the  Cap, 

The  Young  Man  Who  Is 
Engaged. 

The        Dumb        Beggar- 
Woman. 

Men,  Women,  and  Chil- 
dren. 


Place:     The  exile. 

Time:     A  bitter  one  for  Jews. 

1  Assistant  to  a  Rabbi,  and  well  versed  in  religious  law. 


ACT  I 

A  spacious  room  in  the  Zzme  household,  neatly  furnished. 
To  the  right,  an  oil-cloth  couch  with  a  dining-tahle 
before  it,  and  chairs  about  the  table.  Above  the 
couch  hang  photographs.  To  the  left,  two  curtained 
windows,  adorned  with  flowers.  In  the  foreground, 
a  small  table,  upon  which  is  placed  a  candelabra. 
In  the  background,  the  door  to  the  front  of  the 
house  and  to  the  other  rooms.  To  the  right  of  the 
door  a  tile-oven,  to  the  left  a  glass  cupboard,  on 
which  lies  Reb  Mayshe's  fur-cap. 

It  is  the  last  day  of  Passover.  Reb  Mayshe,  Yekef, 
MiNYE,  Leon,  Reuben  and  Lipman  are  seated 
around  the  table,  finishing  their  meal.  Their  faces 
reveal  sadness  and  worry.  Leon,  Reuben  and 
Lipman  soon  arise  from  their  places.  Leon  lights 
a  cig-arette  and  walks  over  to  the  forward  window. 
Reuben  and  Lipman  pace  up  and  down  the  room, 
picking  their  teeth,  absorbed  in  thought. 

Reb  Mayshe.  Well,  we've  finished  the  last  Passover 
meal,  praised  be  the  Lord.     Ah!  .  .  . 

MiNYE  [sighing].  Yes,  yes.  I  could  hardly  lift  a 
thing  to  my  mouth,  and  now  my  hands  fairly  refuse  to 
make  a  move  toward  cleaning  off  the  table. 

Reb  Mayshe.  Dear  God,  you  know  my  heart.  Rather 
would  I  have  fasted,  rather  would  I  have  eaten  nothing 

85 


86  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  I 

but  a  doughnut  and  ashes^  if  it  were  not  that  this  holiday 
is  so  sacred  to  you.  Look  upon  my  having  eaten  as  a 
great  sacrifice,  and  ward  off  from  your  Holy  Scroll  and 
your  chosen  people  a  new  disaster. 

MiNYE.  Dear  God,  Lord  of  the  universe ! 

Reb  Mayshe.  The  last  day  of  Passover!  On  that 
day,  dear  God,  I  have  been  wont  to  rejoice  with  song  and 
dance;  to  make  merry  all  day  long,  to  praise  and  glorify 
your  holy  name  for  the  countless  favors  you  have  show- 
ered upon  your  chosen  people.  Most  merciful  One,  for 
this  time,  count  it  enough  from  us  that  we  have  not  wept, 
that  we  have  not  moistened  our  food  with  our  tears,  that 
we  have  not  made  of  this  joyous  holiday  a  day  of  mourn- 
ing. [MiNYE  bursts  into  tears.]  Well,  let  us  pray. 
It  is  not  right  to  cry,  Minye. —  Dry  your  eyes  and  pray 
with  a  devout  heart.  Pray  for  yourself  and  for  your 
sons,  and  perhaps  God  will  have  compassion.  [Begins 
to  pray,  emphasizing  each  word.  Minye  covers  her  eyes 
with  her  handkerchief  and  prays  quietly.  Yekef  prays 
quickly,  swaying  rapidly  to  and  fro.  After  they  have 
finished  praying,  they  turn  their  attention  to  the  con- 
versation of  Yekef's  three  sons.] 

Leon  [as  if  continuing  an  interrupted  controversy]. 
And  you'll  see,  the  fright  will  blow  over. 

LiPMAN.  I  hope  to  God  it  will!  But  it's  bad  enough 
that  talk  of  another  massacre  is  in  the  air, —  that  it  is 
considered  a  possibility. 

Leon  [with  weak  sarcasm].  Possibility! 

LiPMAN.  Be  honest,  Leon.  Don't  you  feel  just  like 
all  of  us,  that  there's  a  pogrom  brewing?  Can't  you  see 
the  dark  clouds  hovering  over  the  Jews,  and  the  menac- 
ing insolence  that  darts  from  the  Christians'  eyes? 

Leon.  Exaggeration !     Exaggeration ! 

LiPMAN.  You're  beaten,  Leon.     Burn  all  those  songs 


Act  I]  THE  LAST  JEW  87 

and  books  of  yours.  Despite  what  you've  written  in 
them,  Life  has  belied  you. 

Leon  [at  a  loss].  A-hm! 

LiPMAN.  Your  movements  were  false  from  beginning 
to  end.  Your  whole  fabric  of  assimilation  was  nothing 
but  a  soap-bubble.  You  felt  happy,  in  the  Gentile 
heaven,  as  a  dissenter,  as  a  deserter  from  the  Jews.  And 
now  you  must  arise  as  a  Jew,  with  a  broken  head  in  the 
bargain. 

Leon   [sarcastically'\.  Well  spoken. 

LiPMAN.  It'll  do  you  little  good  to  pass  all  this  by  with 
a  joke  on  your  lips,  while  inside  your  heart  is  bleeding. 
Leon,  we  are  strangers,  we  are  in  exile.  We  are  power- 
less, without  any  rights.  In  the  eyes  of  all  we  are  in- 
significant,—  we  are  scorned,  despite  our  capabilities. 
Our  very  virtues  are  made  the  target  of  disgrace  and 
mockery.  Everywhere  we  are  looked  upon  as  leprous 
intruders.  If  we  do  not  willingly  remove  ourselves,  we 
are  thrust  aside  by  force.  Wherefore,  we  must  be  gone. 
We  must  retreat!  Retreat!  Retreat!  We  must  go 
home,  we  must  become  independent,  have  a  nation  of 
our  own,  a  voice  in  our  own  government.  We  must  learn 
to  be  ourselves. 

Reuben  [who  has  been  pacing  up  and  dozen  during 
the  foregoing  conversation].  Exactly!  Exactly!  —  I 
agree  to  every  word  you've  spoken  regarding  his  beliefs 
and  assimilation.  For  it's  after  all  not  assimilation,  but 
rather  a  kind  of  intrusion, —  forcing  yourself  upon  a 
strange  people.  No  good  can  come  of  that.  You're 
right  there.  And  it's  right,  too,  that  a  home,  independ- 
ence, and  a  nation  of  our  own  would  be  a  perfect  solu- 
tion to  the  age-old  Jewish  problem.  But  .  .  .  I'll  go 
as  far  as  that  "  would  "  with  you,  and  no  further.  Just 
explain  this  to  me,  will  you  f     For  thousands  of  years  the 


68  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  1 

Jewish  people  have  not  ceased  to  dream  of  a  land  of  their 
own.  They  created  a  Messiah  and  flocked  after  false 
Messiahs.  And  more:  the  Jews  to-day,  with  staff  and 
wallet,  stand  ready  to  roam  from  one  land  to  another, 
seeking  where  they  may  dwell  in  greatest  freedom  and 
security. —  How  is  it,  then,  that  you  cannot  win  the 
Jews  to  your  cause.''  How  is  it  that  they  do  not  flock  to 
you  with  all  their  strength  and  energy  to  achieve  a  nation 
of  their  own,  and  independence?  Your  ideal  should  fire 
all  Jewish  minds  like  a  spark  in  a  powder  magazine.  A 
single  call,  and  every  heart  that  has  so  long  been  yearn- 
ing for  deliverance  from  the  bitter  exile  should  turn  to 
you. 

LiPMAN.  And  they  are  turned  to  me ! 

Reuben.  Are  you  in  your  right  senses? 

LiPMAN.  Yes  !  Yes  !  Yes  !  They  are  turned  to  me ! 
Every  Jewish  heart  is  turned  to  me.  My  Zionist  move- 
ment is  a  movement  of  the  people. 

Reuben.  My  dear  fellow,  that's  all  mere  talk ! 
There's  no  arguing  that  point  with  you.  But  just  con- 
sider this:  how  can  the  people  follow  your  leadership, 
when  they  can't  see  the  road  over  which  they  can  battle 
to  its  goal  ?  For  what  purpose  shall  they  organize  ?  To 
do  nothing?  How  is  a  movement  of  the  people  possible 
when  there  is  no  motion?  Moses  summoned  his  people 
to  Canaan, —  the  Promised  Land.  The  way  which  he 
pointed  out  to  them  lay  across  a  sea  and  a  wilderness,  and 
through  armed  tribes.  The  people  arose  and  answered 
the  call.  A  perilous  way,  yet  at  least  a  way.  You  go 
to  your  people  to-day  and  say,  "  I  have  a  land  for  you, 
but  it  can  be  won  only  by  bow  and  arrow,  with  musket 
and  powder,  and  with  countless  human  sacrifices." 
Then,  although  I  belong  to  a  different  camp,  I  can't  deny 
that  you'd  attract  a  great  people's  movement  to  your 


Act  I]  THE  LAST  JEW  89 

standard  and  that  there  would  be  lively  doings  in  your 
camp.     But  as  it  is  .  .   . 

LiPMAN  ^interrupting  him].  The  fact  that  I  can't 
come  to  my  people  with  such  a  message  is  the  saddest 
part  of  my  lot.  \Vliat  wouldn't  I  give  if  I  might  do  so ! 
Yet  the  people  are  with  me.  Our  movement  is  like  a 
great  stream  that  is  dammed  by  boards.  Let  but  the 
boards  be  pushed  aside,  and  the  waters  will  rush  forth 
victoriously  and  inundate  the  entire  country.  Wait ! 
The  boards  will  soon  be  thrust  aside. 

Reuben.  Fortunate  fellow !  He  paints  pictures  and 
consoles  himself  with  them.  Don't  you  know  that  a 
people's  movement  should  resemble  a  powerful  stream 
that  tears  away  all  barriers.^  If  it  waits  until  the  boards 
are  removed,  it  may  become  meanwhile  foul  and  stag- 
nant. And  such  the  Jewish  people  became  behind  the 
boards  which  its  Messiah-faith  placed  before  it.  Such 
will  it  become  behind  your  Zion-ideal,  unless  you  find  at 
once  a  way  in  which  the  ideal  may  be  fulfilled.  Do  you 
know  how  you  can  accomplish  it.^  Can  you,  above  all, 
behold  its  fulfilment.'* 

LiPMAN.  Yes.  I  behold  its  fulfilment  and  I  believe 
in  it,  and  I  live  it,  every  day  of  my  life,  in  every  limb  and 
nerve  .  .  . 

Reuben.  But  those  are  mere  words ! 

LiPMAN.  Enough  of  your  talk  and  your  ridicule. 
Pray  understand  me —  Often  I  feel  as  if  I  were  the 
embodiment  of  the  millennial  hope  of  the  Jews,  and  I 
lose  myself  in  longing  and  give  way  to  tears  like  a  child. 
Neither  you  nor  he,  none  of  you,  in  fact,  has  ever  seen 
me.  I  clench  my  fists,  stretch  out  my  arms  and  plant 
myself  squarely  upon  my  feet  and  cry  out:  "  In- 
dependence !  Independence !  Independence !  "  In  my 
dreams  I  behold  our  own  land  as  clear  as  reality, —  and 


90  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  I 

the  foreign  earth  upon  which  I  tread  burns  my  feet.  Not 
only  herCj  under  the  oppression  of  hatred  and  massacres, 
do  I  feel  that  I  tread  on  foreign  soil  and  that  my  feet 
burn  from  the  contact.  It  is  the  same  amidst  the  greatest 
freedom  and  equality,  under  the  most  friendly  and 
fraternal  conditions.  Even  the  most  just  equality  is  not 
independence,  and  independence  alone  can  be  the  reward 
of  our  people  for  its  centuries  of  suffering.  Ah !  That 
is  my  deepest  yearning,  and  my  mission  is  to  make  my 
people  see  what  I  see,  to  experience  what  I  experience, 
to  feel  what  I  feel,  and  to  will  what  I  will.  The  man 
in  us  Jews  must  be  aroused,  so  that  we  shall  no  longer 
be  content  to  be  slaves;  and  once  we  have  become  men, 
the  Jew  in  us  must  be  revived,  and  the  independence  of 
our  people  be  dearer  to  us  than  anything  else  in  the 
world.  This  is  my  work;  in  this  work  lies  the  guarantee 
that  the  water  will  not  become  a  swamp  before  the  boards 
are  removed.     Laugh  if  you  will,  but  all  this  is  so ! 

Reuben.  You're  wrong;  I'll  not  laugh  at  you.  Rather 
shall  I  pity  you.  You're  wandering,  brother,  and  you'll 
lead  nowhere.  Before  you  know  it,  we'll  turn  your 
stream  from  behind  your  boards  into  the  deep,  wide  ocean 
of  people's  freedom  and  international  brotherhood.  And 
the  reward  of  the  Jewish  people  for  its  centuries  of  suf- 
fering,—  if  you  must  have  a  reward !  —  will  be  the  most 
significant,  even  the  foremost  position  in  the  battle  of 
humanity  for  its  liberation.  That,  in  my  eyes,  is  the 
greatest  reward  and  the  most  ideal  historic  justice.  Yes, 
brother,  our  way  lies  open  and  the  masses  that  enter 
upon  it  grow  continually  greater.  Our  cause  gains 
strength  from  day  to  day.  Nothing  can  oppose  our 
growth.  We  triumph  over  the  greatest  obstacles.  We 
grow  with  the  rapidity  of  a  snowball  that  rolls  down  a 


Act  I]  THE  LAST  JEW  91 

snowy  mountain,  and  woe  tp  him  who  gets  in  our  way. 
I  tell  you.  Socialism  will  .  .  . 

Yekef  [springing  to  his  feet].  Tfu!  May  its  name 
and  its  memory  be  obliterated!  I  believe  I've  told  you 
before  that  you  are  not  to  mention  that  word  under  my 
roof.  It's  the  root  of  all  our  sorrows.  If  only  Jewish 
children  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,  we'd  know  nothing 
of  curses  and  massacres.  And  take  my  word  for  it,  some 
day  all  of  us  will  get  after  you  and  wipe  you  out  so  com- 
pletely that  not  a  trace  will  be  left. 

Reuben.  Do  you  know,  father,  that  if  a  massacre  were 
not  in  itself  a  contemptible  thing,  I'd  say  that  you  had 
fully  earned  it.     And  if  you  weren't  my  father  .  .  . 

Yekef  [rvith  more  heat].  If  I  weren't  your  father 
you'd  be  rotting  at  the  bottom  of  hell  by  now.  And  I 
warn  you  to  take  care  hereafter,  for  your  being  my  son 
won't  stand  in  my  way.  .  .  .  [Greatly  excited.]  And 
an  end  to  all  this,  I  say !     An  end ! 

Reuben.  Between  us  all  was  at  an  end  long  ago.  And 
don't  get  so  excited  for  nothing.  There  are  bigger  and 
stronger  people  than  you,  and  we're  not  afraid  of  them, 
either. 

Yekef.  I'll  show  you,  I'll  teach  you.  ... 

Minye.  What's  the  use  of  all  this  quarreling?  [To 
Reuben.]  Don't  mind  what  he  says. —  Now  I  say  dif- 
ferently: Let's  agree  that  all  of  these  ideas  are  good, 
just,  practicable, —  that  Lipman  will  lead  us  in  peace 
to  the  Holy  Land  and  rebuild  our  Temple,  and  that 
Reuben  will  bring  down  a  heaven  upon  earth.  That's  all 
very  nice.  But  until  then?  Until  then  they'll  kill  us 
out  so  that  not  one  of  us  will  be  left.  What  use  to  me  is 
all  this  talk  about  to-morrow?  How  about  now?  —  the 
present? 


92  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  I 

LiPMAN  [impatient].  The  present!  .  .  .  The  pres- 
ent .  .  .    ! 

Reuben.  The  present,  mother  dear?  The  present  is 
not  very  hopeful. 

Reb  Mayshe  [who  has  heard  all  this  while  leaning 
against  the  tile-oven].  There  they  stand,  the  wise  men, 
the  enlightened  ones,  the  educated  leaders,  who  have 
dethroned  God  and  want  to  run  the  world  themselves. — 
There  they  stand  with  open  mouths,  full  of  tongue,  and 
are  at  a  loss  to  reply  to  a  simple  word  like  "  the  pres- 
ent." And  not  to  answer  is  to  them  an  answer,  too ! 
Answer!  Else  to  the  devil  with  you,  or  come  back  to 
God! 

LiPMAN.  But,  grandpa,  the  question  isn't  a  question, 
either.  For  thousands  of  years  the  Jews  have  suffered 
and  have  borne  the  most  grievous  sorrows  with  iron  pa- 
tience. That  same  patience  must  not  desert  us  before 
the  happy  end  arrives. 

Reb  Mayshe.  Yes.  For  thousands  of  years  our 
strength  came  from  our  God,  and  our  patience  from  our 
faith.  But  you  would  accomplish  everything  with 
human  hands  alone,  without  God  and  against  our  faith. 
That's  why  to-day  we  have  neither  strength  nor  patience. 

LiPMAN,  Those  are  mere  words  that  unreasonable  peo- 
ple insist  upon  using.  And  I  tell  you,  grandpa,  we  are 
a  dispersed  people,  a  haphazard  people.  Didn't  Moses 
reproach  us  with  the  same  charge,  and  doesn't  the  Tal- 
mud judge  us  likewise?  A  people  that  refuses  to  recog- 
nize that  a  nation  is  not  built  in  a  night, —  nor  a  people 
established  in  a  day.  We  can  suffer  in  silence  for  eter- 
nities, but  no  sooner  are  we  shown  a  way  out  than  we 
lose  all  patience.  And  instead  of  setting  quietly  to 
work,  we  disturb  matters  with  our  impatience  and  our 
questions  about  "  the  present." 


Act  I]  THE  LAST  JEW  93 

Reb  Mayshe.  And  I  tell  you  that  you're  nothing  but 
apostates  and  blasphemers.     You  mention  Moses  and  the 
Talmud   onlj^  to  blaspheme  both.     That's  what  I   say. 
You  bring  contamination,  not  help.     You  are  destroyers, 
not  builders.     You  are  blind,  I  say.     Blind!     You  are 
groping  in  the  darkness  and  think  you  see  a  way  out. 
What   do    you   know    of    straight    or    crooked,    right   or 
wrong.''     How  do  you  know  what  to-morrow  can  bring 
forth.''     What   do  you   know   of  the   secrets   behind   the 
motion  of  God's  world.''     You  plan,  but  you  trace  your 
plans    upon   sands    that   the    smallest  breeze   may   blow 
away.     You  build,  but  your  structures  are  like  Jonah's 
gourd    that    sprang    up    during    the    night    and    van- 
ished as  quickly.     Your  vanity  proposes,  and  God  dis- 
poses.    WTiat   proof  can   you   advance   that  this   is   not 
so.''     And  how  can  you  assume  such  a  responsibility  be- 
fore your  people,  who  will  fall  into  a  deeper  abyss  of 
dejection  when  it  learns  that  it  has  been  not  led,  but  led 
astray  ?     Oh,   you   ridiculous   clowns !     I   tell   you,   our 
strength  is  in  God,  and  our  patience  is  in  our  faith.     We 
know   that   God   is   punishing   us, —  that   God   sends   us 
our  sorrows,  and  we  welcome  them  gladly  because  we 
know  too,  that  He  is  a  merciful  Father,  and  that  He  will 
put  an  end  to  our  trials  and  establish  us  again.     Nor  do 
we  ask  about  the  present.     Like  a  rock  in  the  midst  of  a 
stormy  sea,  smitten  by  wind  and  tempest  and  mountain- 
like waves, —  even  so  firm  do  we  stand.     The  forces  of 
the  storm  loosen  and  break  off  countless  bits  of  the  rock, 
but  it  stands  fast  and  high  as  ever.     It  laughs  its  enemies 
to  scorn,  and  knows  that  sooner  or  later  the  sun  will 
burst  through  the  clouds  and  dry  it,  warming  and  cheer- 
ing it  with   its  beams.     Even  so  is  the  chosen  people, 
when  it  is  strong  in  its  faith  and  holds  fast  to  the  Holy 
Law.     That   is    why    I    always    cry   with   the   prophet: 


94  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  I 

"  Return,  ye  backsliding  children !  "  Return,  ye  who 
have  strayed,  and  embraced  false  teachings!  Return, 
ye  who  have  led  the  people  astray,  and  ye  who  have 
followed  the  false  leaders  !  Return  to  God  and  His  law ! 
Be  steadfast  to  your  faith !  There  shall  come  a  redeemer 
to  Zion ! 

MiNYE.  Amen !     Lord  of  the  universe  ! 
Leon.  Grandpa,  I've  never  seen  you  so  beautiful  be- 
fore.    I  looked  at  you  as  you  spoke  and  it  seemed  I  was 
living  through  a  poem. 

Reb  Mayshe  [eyes  him  for  a  moment,  with  scorn]. 
Tfu!     You  deaf  ears, —  you  callous  hearts! 

Reuben.  True,  grandpa.  We  can  enjoy  you  only 
with  our  eyes.  But  not  with  our  ears  or  our  hearts. 
What  you  were  just  now  preaching,  grandpa,  is  darkness 
itself. 

Reb  Mayshe.  Aha!  Darkness,  fanaticism!  ...  Ah! 
Why  do  I  waste  time  talking  to  you?  It  is  our  strength 
and  our  life,  our  patience  and  our  support  in  all  the 
long,  bitter  exile ;  and  here  they  come  —  the  clowns  — 
and  call  it  darkness  and  heaven  knows  what  else ! 

Reuben.  Yes,  darkness,  brought  down  from  the  dark 
ages,  when  darkness  lay  upon  all  the  peoples.  And  no 
matter  how  much  or  how  poetically  you  speak,  your 
voice  will  not  be  heard.  Grandpa,  I'm  sorry  for  you  — 
your  day  has  vanished  into  the  past.  You  were  born  too 
late.  Your  sermons  will  turn  no  one  back,  even  if  you 
should  weep  the  bitterest  of  tears.  And  this  is  so  not 
because  we,  the  younger  generation,  the  new  preachers, 
are  against  you  and  talk  the  people  away  from  you,  but 
because  life  itself  is  against  you.  Life,  almighty  life, 
has  taken  the  people  away  from  you  forever  and  ever. 
We,  the  new  preachers,  merely  provide  the  people  with 


Act  I]  THE  LAST  JEW  95 

new  ideas,  new  thoughts,  and  a  new  faith, —  with  new 
heavens  and  a  new  law. 

Reb  Mayshe.  Woe  to  the  ears  that  must  hear  such 
words ! 

Reuben.  There's  no  help  for  it,  and  I'm  sorry  for 
you,  grandpa.  You  stand  all  alone, —  the  last  Jew,  the 
solitary  survivor  of  a  departed  day.  The  world  belongs 
to  us,  to  me  .  .  . 

Reb  Mayshe.  You  lie!  I  am  not  a  sole  survivor, 
neither  do  I  stand  all  alone.  The  world  does  not  belong 
to  you,  nor  shall  it  belong  to  you.  Our  true  God  still 
lives  and  will  be  victorious  over  all  your  idols.  Remem- 
ber, "  Israel  is  not  a  widower."  Israel  has  plenty  of 
pious  Jews,  and  will  have  enough  in  the  future.  God  of 
Abraham!  If  I  ever  knew  that  I  was  the  sole  remaining 
pious  Jew,  I  should  long  ago  have  prayed  God  to  take 
me  away  from  this  world  of  sin.  But  it  is  not  so.  And 
I'll  live  to  see  the  day  when  all  of  you  will  come  back  to 
the  bosom  of  our  Law,  when  you'll  all  repent,  and  weep 
and  wail  over  your  errors.  Yes,  I'll  live  to  see  that  day. 
I  know  I  shall.  God  Avill  lengthen  my  years,  if  need 
be. —  Oh,  great,  powerful,  omnipotent  God,  reveal  your 
power,  reveal  it.  Prove  that  you  still  live  .  .  .  [From 
the  street  come  sounds  of  running  about.  There  is  a 
noise  of  doors  and  shutters  being  closed.'\ 

Minye.  Oh,  Good  Lord,  what  can  that  be?  What's 
the  matter?  [She  runs  out.  Reuben,  Lipman  and 
Leon  look  out  through  the  window.  Yekef  sinks  into  a 
chair. '\ 

Reb  Mayshe  [as  if  in  prayer'\.  Now  is  your  time. 
Father  in  heaven,  now  is  your  time ! 

Yekef.  I'm  trembling  all  over,  upon  my  word.  {The 
shutters  of  the  window  are  closed  from  the  outside.     The 


96  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  I 

room  becomes  half-dark ;  the  light  enters  only  through 
the  shutter-spaces  and  the  door.^ 

MiNYE  [running  inj.  Woe  is  us!  It's  begun  already, 
on  Broad  Street  .  .  . 

Yekef.  On  Broad  Street !  Good  God !  Our  store ! 
Our  store ! 

MiNYE.  .  .  .  And  by  the  river.  They  drowned  two 
Jews. 

Yekef,  On  Broad  Street!  .  .  .  Good  God!  Our 
store !  [From  the  street  comes  the  sound  of  "whistling, — 
a  prearranged  signal.  Reuben  and  Lipman  rush  to  the 
door.] 

MiNYE  [on  the  threshold].  What's  this?  Where  are 
you  running  to? 

Reuben.  You  surely  know.  To  our  organizations  for 
self-defense. 

MiNYE.  Children,  my  sons,  you  shan't  leave  this 
house!  I'll  not  let  you!  You'll  have  to  pass  over  my 
body ! 

Yekef.  Better  let  us  all  run  to  our  store !  Good 
heavens  !     Our  store !     Let's  run  to  it ! 

MiNYE.  What  are  you  talking  about,  you  lunatic ! 
His  store !  His  store  !  —  Children,  you  shan't  leave  ! 
My  sons,  you  remain  here!  You  stay  here  with  your 
mother ! 

Lipman.  Don't  detain  us,  mother.  We're  late  as  it  is. 
Every  minute  that  we  lose  is  a  crime  against  the  com- 
munity. 

Yekef.  Community !  There's  words  for  you !  Com- 
munity !  Three  grown-up  sons,  and  not  a  bit  of  use  do 
I  get  from  them !  All  they  think  of  is  the  community ! 
Woe  to  us !  We'll  have  to  go  a-begging  from  door  to 
door. 


Act  I]  THE  LAST  JEW  97 

Reuben  [trying  to  force  his  way  through  the  door]. 
Mother ! 

MiNYE.  You  sha'n't  leave,  children,  unless  you  want 
me  to  die!  With  my  ill-health  I'll  never  survive  it.  I'll 
go  crazy!  Children,  have  pity!  If  we  are  destined  to 
be  killed,  then  let  us  at  least  die  together.  Yes,  to- 
gether. My  sons,  don't  go !  Every  moment  I'll  imagine 
that  you've  already  been  murdered,  that  you're  sprawling 
somewhere,  bruised  and  trampled.  .  .  .  Oh,  God  in 
heaven,  God  in  heaven ! 

Reuben.     It's  no  use,  mother.     Let  me  pass. 

MiNYE.  Is  it  nothing  to  you  that  your  mother  will  go 
mad  with  terror?  That  she'll  die  from  uncertainty  of 
your  fate? 

LiPMAN.  Mother,  brace  up  and  be  brave.  If  you  were 
a  true  Jewish  mother,  you  would  not  hold  us  back,  but 
rather  send  us  forth.  You  should  be  proud,  you  should 
rejoice  that  we  go  with  such  willingness.  Let  us  pass, 
mother.  Be  strong,  have  courage  and  know  that  if  we 
cannot  live  like  men,  let  us  at  least  die  like  men ! 

MiNYE  [breaks  into  wailing  and  leaves  a  free  passage 
for  her  sons.     Reuben  and  Lipman  hurry  out]. 

Yekef  [calling  after  them].  Children!  Heartless 
wretches ! 

MiNYE  [sobbing].  Woe  is  me!     Woe  is  me! 

Reuben  [at  the  door].  If  you're  afraid  to  remain  here, 
I  can  tell  you  a  good  hiding-place.  In  the  big  forest, 
about  five  hundred  paces  from  Hershel  the  blacksmith's 
place,  you'll  come  to  the  forest-warden's  house.  Tell 
him  I  sent  you.  He'll  hide  jou  well.  A  good  many 
cowardly  Jews  will  probably  join  you.  There  you  can 
sit  in  safety  and  scare  yourselves  to  your  hearts'  con- 
tent.     [Disappears.] 


98  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  I 

Yekef.  Heartless  wretches  they  are!     Not  children! 
Woe!     Woe!     We'll  become  beggars.     Beggars! 

MiNYE.  Dear  God!  Let  them  at  least  return  to  me 
alive  I 

Reb  Mayshe  [taJces  the  fur-cap  from  the  cupboard, 
and  puts  it  on  over  his  skull-cap].     Well,  now  I  go,  too. 

MiNYE.  Where?     What? 

Reb   Mayshe.  To  my  organization. 

Yekef.  What's  this?  What's  this?  Upon  my  word, 
he's  crazy! 

Reb  Mayshe.  You  don't  know  my  organization,  then? 
Remarkable! — [Cuttingly.]  I'm  going  to  the  syna- 
gogue. That  is  my  organization.  The  synagogue  and 
the  Holy  Scrolls  of  the  Law  must  be  defended. 

Yekef.  And  he's  the  defender! 

Reb  Mayshe.     Then  come !     You  be  the  defender. 

MiNYE.  What  are  you  talking  about,  father?  Is  this 
for  your  years  and  your  strength? 

Reb  Mayshe.  You  are  younger  and  stronger.  Come 
along. 

Minye.  Yes!  Just  you  and  I.  Little  it'll  take  to 
finish  us.     One  blow  and  we're  done  for. 

Reb  Mayshe.  Spare  your  talk,  woman.  You'll  not 
hold  me  back.  I  learned  a  lesson  from  your  sons  who 
just  left.  O,  Jews,  Jews!  If  we  cannot  live  like  Jews, 
let  us  at  least  die  like  Jews !  To  the  synagogue !  You 
should  not  restrain  me.  No,  you  should  come  with 
me!  You  should  not  run  to  your  place  of  hiding,  but 
should  go  to  the  synagogue  and  stand  up  for  your  holy 
possessions,  lest  they  be  soiled  by  unclean  hands. — 
Out  of  my  way,  or  I'll  curse  you!  [Minye,  crushed, 
yields.] 

Leon.  Grandpa,  I'm  afraid  you'll  be  the  only  one  in 
the  synagogue,  and  when  they  attack  it,  you'll  not  be 


Act  I]  THE  LAST  JEW  99 

able  to  defend  the  Holy  Scrolls,  and  will  succeed  only 
in  bringing  death  upon  yourself. 

Reb  Mayshe.  I'll  be  the  only  one  there,  you  say? 
Ha-ha !     I  am  the  sole  survivor,  the  last  one.     Ha-ha ! 

—  I'll  be  the  only  one?  No,  no!  Only  I  shall  feel  a 
deep  shame  that  not  one  of  my  children  will  be  there. 

Leon.  I  hope  you  are  right,  and  that  you  will  not  be 
alone.     Then  your  life  will  be  in  less  danger. 

Reb  Mayshe.  Never  mind  your  good  wishes.  Better 
come  along  with  me  now. 

Leon.  Stay  here,  and  I'll  risk  my  life.   .   .   . 

Reb  Mayshe.  No  more  words !  Even  if  you  had  come 
with  me  I  should  have  slammed  the  door  in  your  face 
and  locked  you  out.  You  want  to  protect  me,  not  the 
Holy  Scroll.     You  would  be  a  hindrance  to  God's  army, 

—  a  desecration.  Stay  behind,  where  you're  known ! 
Hide  in  the  woods  and  tremble  with  the  other  cowards. 
You  have  earned  your  fright  most  honorably.  [About 
to  leave.] 

Minye.  Father-in-law!     Oh,  father! 

Yekep.  Did  you  ever  see?  They've  all  got  their 
petty  interests.  ... 

Reb  Mayshe.  Be  silent,  lest  I  thank  God  in  my  last 
moments  that  not  you  will  close  my  eyes  —  O,  sinners, 
sinners !  Little  do  you  realize  what  a  day  this  may  turn 
out  to  be !  To  us  it  is  the  last  day  of  a  holy  week,  yet 
it  may  be  a  first  day  to  God.  God's  faithful  will  be- 
come martyrs,  and  soon  strayed  children  will  turn  back 
to  their  Father,  callous  hearts  will  again  throb  with 
Judaism,  and  the  weak  and  faltering  will  once  more  find 
strength  in  their  Lord. —  To-day  is  your  time,  O  God ; 
to-day  is  your  time!      [He  leaves.] 

Minye  [breaking  into  tears  anexv].  What  a  day,  good 
Lord,  what  a  day !     O,  that  I  had  not  lived  to  see  it ! 


100  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  I 

Leon  [as  if  to  himself].  A  day  of  great  reckoning. 

Yekef.  They've  all  got  their  petty  interests,  and  when 
it  comes  to  the  important  thing  there's  nobody  at  hand. — 
Woe  is  me,  what's  to  be  done.^  What  can  we  begin  to 
do?  [Looks  at  Leon.]  Good  Lord,  our  store!  We'll 
be  left  paupers !  What's  to  be  done  ?  What's  to  be 
done .'' 

Leon   [bluntly].  Do  you  want  an  answer  from  me? 

Yekef.  By  all  means.     Suggest  something.     Speak ! 

Leon.  Rush  to  your  store  and  defend  it.  Take  a 
stick  or  a  broom,  or  an  old  osier  brush  and  protect  your 
precious  store,  your  holy  realm,  your  soul. 

Yekef.  What !  You're  poking  fun  at  me  !  Ridicule  ! 
Here  I  am  weeping  tears  of  blood,  and  all  you  can  do  is 
poke  fun  at  me ! 

Leon.  I  am  in  dead  earnest.  If  your  store  is  more 
to  you  than  anything  else  .  .  . 

Yekef.  Enough  of  your  joking,  I  tell  you.  Do  you 
hear?  You'll  see  how  we'll  get  along  without  the  store. 
And  then  you'll  know  whether  it's  a  joke  or  not! 

Leon.  No.  I'm  not  poking  fun  at  you,  but  only  at 
myself.  I'm  ridiculing  myself  alone.  How  blind  I've 
been !  With  you  always  before  my  eyes  I  never  noticed 
grandpa  and  my  brothers.  With  you  always  before  my 
eyes,  you  assumed  the  stature  of  the  whole  Jewish  peo- 
ple, and  I  was  disgusted  with  it. 

Yekef.  What  do  you  want,  eh?  Why  have  you  set 
upon  me  now  ?  Am  I  not  suffering  enough  without  your 
adding  to  it? 

Leon.  What  do  I  want,  eh?  I  want  to  confess;  I 
want  to  speak  my  mind,  to  pour  out  my  wrath.   .   .   . 

Yekef.  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  this !  You  want 
to  pour  out  your  wrath  on  me,  perhaps? 

Leon.  On  you,  yes  !     On  you !     Because  through  you 


Act  I]  THE  LAST  JEW  101 

I  conceived  a  disgust  for  the  whole  Jewish  race.  It 
looked  to  me  as  petty  as  yourself, —  a  horde  of  petty 
money-grabbers, —  without  a  heart,  without  a  soul,  with- 
out a  will  or  an  impulse  to  something  higher, —  without 
the  strength  to  live  or  the  courage  to  die.  And  I  de- 
spised it  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart !  I  tried  to  stifle 
within  me  every  remembrance  that  I  was  a  Jew.  Every- 
thing in  me  that  came  from  the  Jews,  from  you,  I  strove 
to  root  out  of  my  nature, —  to  forget,  to  destroy.  I 
wanted  to  free  myself  of  you,  of  myself.   .  .  . 

Yekef  [who  has  not  been  listening  to  him].  Enough! 
My  learned  professor!  Just  as  if  he  had  an  audience. 
Breaks  out  into  a  sermon ! 

Leon  [eyeing  him  with  a  scorn].  Oh,  you.  .  .  .  Un- 
happy soul ! 

MiNYE   [in  tears].  What  a  day.  Lord  of  the  universe, 

what  a  day ! 

Yekef.  What's  to  be  done?  I  can't  imagine.  My 
head  is  splitting.  .  .  .  And  what  are  we  sitting  here  for  ? 
Are  we  waiting  for  them  to  come  to  us .'' 

Minye.  Let  them  come.  Let  them  smash  the  place  to 
bits;  let  them  kill  everybody.  It's  all  the  same  to  me 
now. 

,     Yekef.  You're  just  as  crazy  as  your  sons!     Perhaps 
you,  too,  want  to  confess  and  pour  out  your  heart. 

Minye.  Oh,  I  confessed  and  poured  out  my  heart  long 
ago.  During  all  my  life  with  you,  and  afterwards  bring- 
ing up  the  children,  not  a  day  went  by  that  I  didn't  pour 
out  my  heart.  But  I  did  it  within  me,  because  I  wanted 
nobody  to  hear.  Besides  there  was  nobody  to  talk  to. 
But  the  Lord  heard.  He  was  with  me  everywhere, — 
in  the  kitchen,  in  the  dining-room,  in  the  store.  He; 
knows  my  heart;  I  need  no  more. 

Yekef.  Enough  from  you,  my  pious  one.     And  let's 


102  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  I 

be  off  to  the  hiding-place  that  Reuben  spoke  of.  We've 
got  to  take  your  jewelry  along,  and  the  silverware. 
We'll  lock  the  house  and  leave.  If  our  home  isn't  at- 
tacked, then  certainly  all  thanks  to  the  Lord;  if  it  is,  let 
us  at  least  save  ourselves  and  the  little  gold  and  silver 
that  we  own. 

MiNYE    [sarcastically'].  Excellent! 

Yekep.  Then  move, —  get  up.     Do  something ! 

MiNYE  [rises  with  an  effort.  A  knocking  at  the 
door'] . 

Yekef  [in  a  frightened  voice].  Hush!  I  think 
somebody's  knocking  at  the  door.  [The  knocking  grows 
louder.] 

Eda   [from  without].  Open  the  door.     It's  I,  Eda. 

MiNYE.   Eda.-*      [Goes  out.] 

Leon  [about  to  rush  to  the  other  part  of  the  house, 
hut  stops  on  the  threshold  of  the  doorway]. 

Yekef.  Eda.''  A  fine  time  to  choose  for  a  visit,  upon 
my  word ! 

MiNYE  [comes  in  with  Eda,  who  is  in  the  costume  of  a 
red-cross  nurse,  with  a  black  cross  hanging  from  her 
neck]. 

Eda  [giving  Leon  her  hand,  and  holding  him  thus 
during  the  ensuing  conversation].  I'm  glad  to  find  you 
here,  Leon  dear. —  How  dark  it  is !  —  I  can  make  out 
Uncle.  But  where's  grandpa?  Where's  Reuben?  And 
Lipman  ? 

MiNYE  [tearfully].  They  have  all  gone.  Reuben  and 
Lipman  have  their  organizations,  and  your  grandpa  has 
his, —  the  synagogue. 

Yekef.  Wliat's  doing  anyway?  Tell  us.  Say  some- 
thing.    Were  you,  perhaps,  on  Broad  Street? 

Eda.  Who  can  go  through  Broad  Street  now? 

Yekef.  Oh,  woe  is  me!     Oh,  woe  is  me! 


Act  I]  THE  LAST  JEW  103 

Eda.  It's  already  spread  to  the  riverfront,  and  the 
side  streets  and  Long  Street.  If  it  weren't  for  my  red- 
cross  uniform,  I  could  never  have  reached  you, 

Yekef.  Oh!  Minye!  Do  you  hear?  Minye !  Hurry! 
What  are  you  standing  there  for?  Move!  Do  some- 
thing ! 

Minye  [angered].  Move  yourself!  Do  something 
yourself!  What  are  you  ordering  me  about  for?  [Be- 
gins to  collect  the  spoons  and  forks  from  the  table.] 

Yekef  [stumbling  over  a  chair].  Oh,  my  feet  give 
way  under  me,  upon  my  word. 

Eda.  What  are  you  going  to  do?  Have  you  a  place 
to  go  to? 

Minye.  How  should  I  know?  Reuben  told  us  of  a 
hiding-place.  As  if  any  one  can  hide  from  God. 
There's  no  hiding  from  Him.  His  thunder  can  strike 
anywhere. —  Ah !  —  And  your  folks  ?  Where  are 
they? 

Eda   [laughs  in  embarrassment]. 

Minye   [surprised].  Well?     What  is  it? 

Eda.  Would  that  all  the  Jews  were  as  safe  as  they. 
[Leon  looks  at  her  sharply.  Eda  nods  to  him  and 
points  to  her  cross.]      A-hm ! 

Leon   [gasping].  Impossible! 

Minye  [dropping  her  silverware  upon  the  table  and 
hastening  over  to  Eda].  Eda  dear,  I  don't  understand 
deaf-and-dumb  language.  What  has  happened  to  you 
and  your  folks? 

Eda.  An  acquaintance  of  ours  ...  a  Christian,  took 
us  into  his  home. 

Minye  [somewhat  incredulous].  A  Christian  ac- 
quaintance ? 

Yekef.  Minye !  Minye !  This  is  no  time  for  con- 
versations.    Where  are  the  keys?     Have  you  got  them? 


104,  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  I 

[Thrusts   MiNYE   through   the   door  and  goes  out  with 
her.'j 

Leon   [quickly,  in  a  subdued  voice].  How  could  you 

do  it? 

Eda.  What  do  you  mean,  "  How  "  ? 
Leon.  Impossible!     Impossible! 

Eda.  And  you  can  talk  like  that?  I  can't  understand 
you.  We  went  to  the  limit  of  your  teaching.  You 
preach  assimilation,  don't  you?  Well,  what  better  as- 
similation than  to  adopt  Christianity  altogether? 

Leon.  We  can't  go  to  the  limit.  We  can't  adopt 
Christianity  because  we  don't  believe  in  it.  Such  adop- 
tion is  not  assimilation.     It's  hypocrisy. 

Eda.  Does  every  believer  in  assimilation  really  think 
that  he's  ceased  to  be  a  Jew?  Isn't  he  really  something 
of  a  hypocrite?  No,  Leon,  my  father  is  right.  To  go 
only  half  way  is  nonsense.  We're  unbelievers  anyway, 
and  exchange  a  bad  form  of  unbelief  for  a  good  one, — 
a  peaceful  one.  And  it's  not  at  all  impossible  that  our 
children  should  grow  up  into  sincere  Christians.  The 
step  had  to  be  taken. —  I  really  can't  understand  you. 
Leon.  Eda,  our  ways  have  parted.  Far,  very  far 
from  each  other.  We  are  at  opposite  poles.  I  am  not 
to-day  the  same  Leon  Zwie  I  was  yesterday. 

Eda.  Speak  more  clearly.  Don't  frighten  me,  Leon 
dear ! 

Leon.  Which  is  the  greater  and  the  more  honorable, 
Eda, —  self-humiliation  or  self-liberation  ?  Self-denial 
or  self-assertion?  I  trod  the  path  of  self-humiliation 
and  self-denial,  while  about  me  were  Jews  who  went  the 
way  of  self-liberation  and  self-assertion, —  Jews  full  of 
strength,  of  life,  of  power,  Jews  of  indomitable  will  and 
gigantic  faith.  .  .  . 

Eda.  Who?     Your  father,  perhaps? 


Act  I]  THE  LAST  JEW  105 

Leon.  Don't  mock,  Eda.  Don't  let  my  petty  father 
hide  from  your  sight  my  noble  grandfather  and  my  noble 
brothers. 

Eda.  What's  come  over  you?  I  can't  understand  you 
any  more ! 

Leon.  Oh,  if  you  had  but  gone  through  what  I  am 
going  through  to-day ! 

Eda  [puts  her  arm  around  his  neck  and  caresses  him]. 
Come  to  yourself,  Leon  dear.  You'll  travel  the  same 
road  as  I. 

Leon.  Impossible  forever!  I'll  never  take  the  step 
you  have  taken.  And  to-day  I  am  further  from  it  than 
ever. 

Eda.  Leon,  what  are  you  saying?  How  can  you 
speak  like  that?     In  the  name  of  our  love,  Leon  .  .  . 

Leon.  You  will  have  to  turn  back. 

Eda.  Under  no  circumstances !  That  would  be  mad- 
ness! 

Leon.  Eda,  even  in  the  gloom  of  our  room  I  can  see 
that  the  costume  of  a  red-cross  nurse  becomes  you  very 
much.  It  is  a  long  time  since  I  have  beheld  you  looking 
so  beautiful.  The  semi-darkness  embraces  your  white 
form  so  secretly,  and  lends  a  mystic  charm  to  your  face. 
If  I  had  not  loved  you  before,  I  should  have  fallen  in 
love  with  you  now.   .  ,  . 

Eda.  Don't  speak  sweet  words  to  me  at  such  a  mo- 
ment. 

Leon.  I'll  not  speak  sweet  words,  but  bitter  ones.  I 
want  to  tell  you  that  with  all  my  great  love  for  you, 
I'll  not  take  the  step  you  have  taken.  I'm  standing 
now  at  a  parting  of  ways,  but  I'll  not  choose  the  road 
you  have  chosen. —  Eda,  I  have  been  a  slave,  with 
servile  thoughts.  I  was  the  weakest,  and  thought  myself 
the  strongest.     Because   Jews  are  scorned,  I   erected  a 


106  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  1 

theory  that  we  are  not  ourselves,  that  we  must  not  be 
ourselves.  Because  Jews  are  ridiculed,  I  saw  in  them 
only  the  petty  individuals  and  the  petty  characteristics, 
—  all  that  was  low  and  vulgar.  Everything  Jewish  was 
evil  to  my  eyes, —  worse  than  to  the  eyes  of  the  Gentiles. 
I  fawned  upon  the  Gentiles,  I  humiliated  myself  and 
raised  self-humiliation  aloft  as  a  banner,  as  the  highest 
goal  of  our  ambition.  Eda,  we  have  sinned  against  the 
Jews, —  have  insulted  and  destroyed  the  free  man 
within  us !  .  .  . 

Eda.  Bah  !  Reactionary  talk !  Mere  reaction !  Who 
talked  you  into  all  this.''  Your  grandpa,  the  fanatic 
preacher?  Or  Lipman,  the  Utopian?  Or  was  it  Reu- 
ben, the  Socialist  Jew  who's  going  to  turn  the  world  up- 
side down?  Did  your  whole  doctrine  stand  on  such 
straw-legs  ?  Did  the  pogrom  surprise  you  so  much  ?  — 
Leon !     Leon ! 

MiNYE  [enters  as  Eda  utters  the  last  sentencel. 
Eda,  I  can't  get  it  out  of  my  head.  There's  something 
wrong  about  your  family's  connection  with  that  Christian 
acquaintance.  You  laughed  so  queerly  when  you  men- 
tioned it.  [^Looks  at  Eda  piercingly,  and  utters  her 
words  with  slow  emphasis.]      Tell  me  the  truth. 

Eda  l^resolutelyl.  Yes,  I  will.  Father,  mother, —  all 
of  us  have  become  Christians. 

MiNYE  [clutching  her  bosom,  then  her  head].  Oh! 
Oh!     Oh!      [She  is  about  to  fall.     Leon  catches  her.] 

Yekef  [comes  running  in  with  various  bundles  under 
his  arms  and  in  his  hands].  What's  the  matter?  What's 
the  matter? 

MiNYE  [in  a  chohing  voice].  They  have  become 
Christians.     Oh!     Oh!     Oh! 

Yekef.  Christians?  Woe  is  me!  Woe  is  me !  [The 
bundles  fall  from  his  grasp.] 


Act  I]  THE  LAST  JEW  107 

Eda  [in  a  conciliating  tone].  You  know  how  it  is. 
We  were  never  very  pious  Jews  anyway.  Then  why 
should  we  suffer  from  massacres?  Really.  Since  we 
were  already  practically  Gentiles,  why  shouldn't  we  be- 
come real  Gentiles  and  stop  suffering  Jewish  sorrows  ? 
Now,  at  least,  we  are  safe  from  harm.  The  priest  is  in 
our  home  and  .  .  . 

Yekef.  Oh  !     Woe  is  me !     Woe  is  me ! 

MiNYE.  Then  why  did  you  come  here?  To  boast  of 
your  priest  and  your  security?  To  increase  our  sor- 
rows? To  grieve  us  to  death?  Thank  God  that  grand- 
father went  away !  He  would  have  fallen  dead  where 
he  stood;  he  could  have  never  survived  the  news.  What- 
ever death  he  may  die  to-day,  the  most  cruel,  the  most 
horrible  death  will  be  sweeter  than  that  he  would  have 
died  here.  Oh!  Oh!  Oh!  [In  a  rage.]  Out!  Out 
of  my  home !  Out,  I  say !  Out !  [Becomes  hysteri- 
cal.] 

Yekef.  Yes!  Out!  Out  with  you!  [Aided  by 
Leon  he  places  Minye  upon  the  couch.  They  open  her 
waist  and  pour  down  her  throat  a  restorative,  which 
Leon  has  brought  from  the  cupboard.  Eda,  at  a  loss, 
goes  to  the  door.  Minye  gradually  calms  down,  and 
sobs  quietly.] 

Eda  [softly].  Leon. 

Leon  [motioning  to  her].  Better  leave  now,  [Eda 
looks  at  him  for  a  moment.  Her  face  twitches  with  inner 
pain.     She  leaves.     Minye's  sobbing  subsides.] 

Yekef  [beginning  to  pick  up  his  bundles.  There  is 
a  far-off  noise  of  many  voices.  From  the  street  the 
sound  of  running  to  and  fro].  Oh!  Oh!  I'm  afraid 
that  .  .  .  I'll  die  of  fright,  upon  my  word.  .  .  .  Oh! 
They've  reached  our  street  already.  Minye !  Minye ! 
What  shall  we  do?     [Minye  sits  up.] 


106  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  I 

Leon.  We'll  stay  right  here.  Where  can  we  go  now, 
with  her  in  such  a  condition? 

MiNYE.  Has  she  gone.'* 

Leon.  Yes^  mother. 

MiNYE.  And  you?  You  don't  follow  her?  You 
won't  become  a  .  .  .   ? 

Leon.  No,  mother. 

MiNYE  l^caresses  his  head  and  kisses  him'].  Then  I'm 
well  again.  Now  I  can  go  as  far  as  you  wish. —  You, 
Yekef,  take  your  bundles.     I'll  take  my  son. 

Yekef  [taking  the  bundles].  Oh!  Woe  is  me!  Oh! 
Woe  is  me !  If  we  can  only  dodge  through  the  streets 
in  safety.  I'll  have  to  hide  the  bundles  somewhere  in  the 
yard.  Oh!  Woe  is  me!  [They  leave,  Minye  leaning 
against  Leon.] 

CURTAIN 


ACT  II 


FIRST    SCENE 


Interior  of  the  synagogue.  In  the  center,  the  pulpit, 
with  steps  leading  to  it  in  front  and  from  the  rear. 
About  it  are  grouped  benches,  before  which  stand 
several  lecterns.  To  the  left,  the  Holy  Ark,  on  a 
high  platform;  underneath,  the  altar,  upon  which 
is  placed  a  large  silver  seven-branched  candlestick 
in  which  candles  are  burning.  The  altar  is  covered 
with  an  old,  threadbare,  velvet  tablecloth;  the  Holy 
Ark  is  hung  with  a  curtain  on  which  is  embroidered 
in  gold  thread  a  David's  Shield  (six-pointed  star), 
and  a  short  top-curtain,  upon  which  are  embroidered 
in  gold  and  silver  thread,  and  spangles,  two  lions, 
holding  a  small  David's  Shield.  On  each  side  of 
the  Holy  Ark  are  rows  of  brightly  painted  benches, 
with  high  backs  and  book-rests  in  front  of  them. 
On  each  side  of  the  room,  tivo  large  windows.  At 
the  rear,  three  high  windows;  along  the  wall, 
benches  without  backs.  Before  the  benches,  long 
tables.  Not  far  from  the  right  stands  a  tall  grand- 
father's clock.  The  entrance  door  is  to  the  right. 
On  each  side  of  the  door,  a  high  tile  oven.  Above, 
the  windows  of  the  women's  section. 

Two  synagogue  idlers,  one  of  them  tall  and  stout,  the 
other  short  and  thin,  are  discovered  sitting  on  the 
pulpit-bench,  near  the   Holy  Ark,  their  book-rests 

109 


110  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  II 

before  them.  On  the  latter  lie  large  volumes  of  the 
Gemara.  The  idlers  are  swaying  before  their 
books,  humming  the  chanting-tunes  to  which  the 
Gemara  is  read,  but  not  pronouncing  any  words. 
Both  are  about  thirty  years  of  age,  and  very  poorly 
clad. 

The  Thin  One  [with  the  chanting  intonation].  Do 
you  know  what  I'll  tell  you?     I'm  as  hungry  as  a  bear. 

The  Stout  One  [the  same].  And  if  you  are  hungry, 
then  what  shall  /  say?  If  you  are  hungry  once,  then  I 
am  hungry  seventy-seven  fold. 

The  Thin  One.  A  fine  last  day  of  Passover !     I  tell 

you ! 

The  Stout  One  [still  chanting].  Just  what  I'm  in- 
sisting upon ! 

The  Thin  One.  I  know  I'm  not  much  of  an  eater. 
In  fact,  sometimes  a  dry  crumb  is  enough  for  me  from 
one  Sabbath  to  another.     But  to  fast  on  such  a  day  as 

this  .  .  .    ! 

The  Stout  One.  Could  anything  be  worse  than  my 
case?  I  always  used  to  eat  so  much  on  the  last  day  of 
Passover  that  even  I,  you'll  understand,  even  I,  couldn't 
eat  for  a  week  and  had  an  awful  pressure  against  my 
sides !  First  of  all,  I  used  to  accompany  my  host  on  his 
pound  of  visits.  And  his  list  of  relatives, —  may  no  evil 
eye  gaze  upon  them, —  was  a  long  one,  indeed.  For  he's 
Mr.  Shlayme  Peshelis,  I'll  have  you  know!  And  wher- 
ever we  went  they  feasted  us  royally.  May  every  son 
of  Israel  be  as  well  off  as  each  of  Shlayme's  relatives !  — 
And  you  may  just  bet  that  in  those  days  I  certainly  ate 
my  fill!  That  was  what  you  call  eating!  Why  should 
I  be  stingy  with  their  food?  So  down  it  went!  I  let 
nothing  go  by.     And  after  that,  late  in  the  afternoon. 


Act  II]  THE  LAST  JEW  111 

when  we'd  come  home,  the  real  feast  began,  you'll  under- 
stand. The  real  feast  began.  We'd  eat  and  drink  till 
sunset  prayers,  you'll  understand. —  "We'd  say  sunset 
prayers,  then  go  back  to  our  feast,  and  the  same  with 
evening  prayers  —  and  we'd  eat  away,  you'll  under- 
stand, till  long  after  dark,  and  then  return  to  leavened 
bread  in  the  shape  of  a  nice,  fresh,  hot  roll.  .  .  . 

The  Thin  One  [groaniiigl.  What's  the  use  of  talk- 
ing.''    To-day  they  were  all  in  such  a  hurry.  .  .  . 

The  Stout  One.  To-day .''  Don't  mention  it!  As 
to  visiting,  it  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  People  were 
afraid  to  show  themselves  upon  the  street.  And  they 
ate  with  such  haste  that  the  haste  of  the  Jews  in  Egypt, 
which  we  commemorate  with  our  unleavened  bread,  was 
slowness  itself  aside  of  it.  First  of  all,  there  was  noth- 
ing to  eat  that  required  the  use  of  spoons,  because  the 
spoons  are  of  silver  and  they  were  afraid  that  somebody 
might  steal  them  from  before  their  very  eyes.  Devil 
take  such  folks,  say  I !  Better  have  wooden  spoons  and 
hand  me  a  plate  of  fine  soup, —  a  borshtch  —  with  an 
aroma  that  goes  through  every  bone  in  your  body.  And 
some  meat  that's  been  cooked  with  it,  that'll  .  .  .  you 
understand  .   .  .   Isn't  it  so.''  .   .  .  eh? 

The  Thin  One  [his  month  •watering'\.  Oy,  oy !  .  .  . 
Do  you  really  think  there's  going  to  be  a  massacre? 

The  Stout  One.  And  if  there  is  a  pogrom,  what 
then?  Mustn't  we  eat  in  the  meantime?  I  stick  to  my 
motto.  Wait.  Take  your  time !  You  must  always  take 
it  for  granted  that  there  will  be  no  pogrom.  The  Jews 
inhabit  six  hundred  and  eighty  cities  and  towns,  and  in 
each  one  of  them  they  talk  of  massacres.  Can  there  be  a 
massacre  in  every  one  of  these  six  hundred  and  eighty 
places?  Ridiculous,  say  I!  Then  why  should  I  imag- 
ine  that   the   pogrom   will   strike  my  particular   town? 


112  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  II 

People  are  talking  about  it,  you  say?  But  they're  talk- 
ing about  it  everywhere!  Rather  let  us  imagine  that 
there  won't  be  any  massacre  at  all,  and  let's  be  reason- 
able creatures  —  not  spoil  such  a  fine  holiday  as  tliis, 
you'll  understand.  Such  a  last  day  of  Passover.  But 
a  massacre  is  likely  to  happen  after  all,  you  say  ?  Then 
there's  always  time  to  hide  oneself,  isn't  there?     Hey? 

The  Thin  One.  As  far  as  I'm  concerned,  you're 
right.  I  can  easily  find  a  place  to  hide  in.  But  take, 
for  example,  a  fellow  like  yourself? 

The  Stout  One.  I  have  such  an  excellent  place  to 
hide  in,  that  if  I  were  as  well  fed  as  usual  on  the  last 
day  of  Passover  I  could  lie  there  as  long  as  I  pleased 
without  the  slightest  danger  of  being  discovered. 

The  Thin  One.  And  where  might  that  be  ? 

The  Stout  One.  Right  here,  underneath  the  syna- 
gogue, you'll  understand. 

The  Thin  One.  What?  Where  the  pigs  congre- 
gate? 

The  Stout  One,  What  of  it?     I  won't  eat  them,  will 

I? 

The  Thin  One.  Well,  but  .  .  . 

The  Stout  One.  And  then  again,  the  pigs  could  be 
driven  away.  Of  course,  I  would  beg  their  pardon  very 
politely,  and  I'd  have  more  room,  too,  you'll  understand. 

The  Thin  One.  For  a  good  many  more  Jews. 

The  Stout  One.  [icHh  a  pious,  Gemara  intonation]. 
And  for  Jewesses,  too ! 

The  Thin  One  [beginning  once  more  to  sway  to  and 
fro,  looking  into  his  book  and  speaking  with  the  pious 
sing-song].  And  now,  where  have  we  reached? 

The  Stout  One  [with  sing-song  manner].  We've 
reached  .  .  .  we've  reached  ...  an  agreement  that  it 
wouldn't  be  a  bad  idea  to  have  a  bite. 


Act  II]  THE  LAST  JEW  113 

Reb  Mayshe  [enters.  He  wears  his  fur-cap  and  his 
long  coat.  He  kisses  the  masuzah].  Holy  congregation, 
pardon  me  if  I  .  .  .  [Stops  suddenly.]  The  synagogue 
is  empty?  The  —  synagogue  —  empty?  [The  idlers 
sway  more  piously  than  ever,  and  chant  very  loudly. 
Reb  Mayshe's  voice  changes  to  one  of  pleasure.']  No, 
I  was  mistaken.  Here  sit  some  Jews  studying  the  Holy 
Law,  Thanks,  O  God,  that  I  have  been  permitted  to 
hear  this.  Your  children  are  being  persecuted,  yet  they 
sit  and  study  the  Law.  [He  conies  forward  and  sees  the 
idlers.  The  pleasure  vanishes  from  his  features.] 
How!  Only  they!  —  God,  how  great  is  your  people  of 
Israel !     Its  worst  members  become  its  best. 

The  Stout  One.  Good  holiday  to  you,  Reb  Mayshe! 
Was  that  you  talking? 

Reb  Mayshe.  Good  holiday  to  you,  my  children,  and 
thanks,  too !  I  was  about  to  open  my  mouth  to  utter  a 
curse,  when  I  heard  your  voices  chanting  the  Holy  Law, 
and  my  curse  was  transformed  into  a  blessing. 

The  Thin  One.  And  whom  did  you  wish  to  curse? 

Reb  Mayshe.  Whom?  The  cowards,  the  weaklings, 
those  who  have  forgotten  God,  those  who  think  only  of 
themselves,  not  of  the  synagogue.  [Sits  down  wearily.] 
I  ran  all  the  way  and  expected  to  find  a  synagogue  full 
of  Jews.  Listen,  children,  I  ran  to  the  synagogue  and 
told  myself  that  I'd  find  a  full  congregation.  I  beheld 
young,  and  old,  men,  women,  and  children.  My  heart 
melted  with  joy,  and  I  was  at  once  glad  and  ashamed 
that  I  should  be  the  last  to  arrive,  and  I  wanted  to  beg 
their   pardon  .  .   .  holy   congregation.   .   .  . 

The  Stout  One.  So  should  it  have  been,  indeed ! 

Reb  Mayshe.  Not  so?  And  I  enter  the  synagogue, 
and  am  about  to  speak,  when  I  see  that  which  makes 
me  doubt  my  eyes  —  not  a  Jew  present !     A  horrible 


114  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  II 

thought  assailed  me  and  a  curse  rushed  to  my  tongue, 
—  a  curse  not  written  in  the  Holy  Law,  but  you  two  took, 
the  curse  from  my  mouth.  May  God's  blessing  descend 
upon  you  and  may  He  refresh  you  as  you  have  refreshed 
me.  [Arises,  and  speaks  louder. '\  0\\,  Israel  is  not  a 
widower!  Israel  is  not  a  widower!  If  only  those 
grandsons  of  mine,  the  infidels,  could  see  you  here  now, 
how  they  would  blush  for  shame !  What  does  their  cour- 
age amount  to  beside  yours.''  What  is  their  might, 
what  is  all  their  heroism  and  struggle,  compared  to  your 
sitting  here  studying  the  Law  in  such  a  day  as  this  ? 
[The  idlers  look  at  each  other  slyly  and  shrug  their 
shoulders.]  But  I  tell  you,  children,  you  must  show  that 
your  strength  is  not  alone  for  studying  the  Law,  but 
to  protect  it.  Even  as  a  stag  runs  to  slake  its  thirst  in 
a  stream,  so  should  we  Jews  run  to  study  the  Torah; 
but  when  it  comes  to  defending  our  sacred  possessions 
against  a  desecrating  hand  we  should  be  like  lions !  We 
must  fear  no  enemy,  however  great  he  be.  For,  can 
there  be  a  sweeter  death  than  to  die  for  our  scrolls  and 
for  His  Holy  Name.^  .  .  .  But  why  should  I  disturb 
your  study  with  my  talk.^  Study,  my  children,  study. 
I'll  make  all  the  preparations  myself.  I  know  where  our 
caretaker's  implements  are  hidden.  You  will  be  brave. 
You  will  be  brave.      [Hastens  through  the  door.] 

The  Stout  One.  Do  you  understand  what  he's  talk- 
ing about? 

The  Thin  One.  And  why  shouldn't  I  understand.'' 

The  Stout  One.  He  means, —  and  I  hope  the  hour 
will  never  come  —  that  if  the  synagogue  is  attacked,  we 
are  to  be  the  defenders  and  protect  the  scrolls  with  our 
lives. 

The  Thin  One.  Oy !     Oy !     That's    asking   a   great 


Act  II]  THE  LAST  JEW  115 

deal, —  to  sacrifice  one's  life  for  the  Lord.     Not  a  trifle, 
hey? 

The  Stout  One.  Now,  tell  the  truth,  could  you  do  it? 

The  Thin  One.  I  say  ...  I  believe  .  .  .  I'll  tell 
you  the  truth.  I'd  die  of  fright  before  they  reached 
anywhere  near  the  synagogue. 

The  Stout  One.  And  I'll  be  in  hiding  underneath, 
with  the  pigs, —  so  scared  that  I  won't  even  know  how  I 
got  there. 

The  Thin  One.  Oy!     Oy! 

The  Stout  One.  And  I've  got  another  splendid  idea. 
The  weapons  —  the  axes  and  the  saws  and  other  things 
—  can  come  in  handy  down  below !  For  if  they  should 
try  to  crawl  in  after  us,  we  can  give  them  a  slash  over 
the  snout  with  the  ax  so  that  the  sparks  will  fly.  It's  a 
good  thing  he  reminded  us  of  the  weapons. 

The  Thin  One.  But  something  else  is  on  my  mind. 
Suppose  they  set  fire  to  the  synagogue,  with  us  lying 
underneath  it? 

The  Stout  One.  Pessimist!  You've  got  to  look  at 
everything  from  the  dark  side!  In  the  first  place,  why 
should  I  imagine  that  they'll  set  fire  to  the  place?  And 
in  the  second,  the  weapons  will  prove  all  the  more  use- 
ful to  us  in  such  a  case. 

Reb  Mayshe  [enters.  Under  his  right  arm  he  car- 
ries an  ax;  under  the  left  a  saw  and  a  pick;  with  both 
hands  he  drags  a  heavy  crowbar.  He  has  great  difficulty 
in  closing  the  door.  At  sight  of  him,  the  idlers  resume 
their  pious  chanting.  Reb  Mayshe,  with  much  effort,, 
drags  himself  up  to  the  Holy  Ark].  These,  children,  are 
our  weapons,  and  God  will  strengthen  our  hands.  I'll 
take  the  ax.  [Lifts  up  the  ax.]  Ah,  it  is  light  enough 
for  my  feeble  hands,  and  with  it  I'll  hew  down  the  ene- 


116  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  II 

mies  of  the  Lord. —  You,  you  big  fellow,  take  the  crow- 
bar. It  is  heavy  but  in  your  hand  it  will  be  as  light 
as  a  switch  with  which  to  slay  the  desecrators,  just 
as  Samson  slew  the  Philistines. —  And  you,  short  and 
thin  as  you  are,  have  your  choice  of  the  saw  or  the  pick, 
and  whichever  you  choose,  let  it  become  a  dangerous 
weapon  in  your  hands.  [Sighs.]  One  of  the  weapons 
will  remain  without  arms  to  wield  it.  Too  bad.  God, 
how  small  your  army  is !  Only  we  three, —  and  I  imag- 
ined I'd  find  a  full  synagogue. —  Lord,  where  are  your 
Jews.''  Where  is  your  army.''  Or  can  three  be  enough 
for  you.''  [^Passes  his  hand  over  his  face  and  his  beard.] 
It  is  wrong  to  think  like  this !  It  is  wrong  to  think  in 
this  fashion!  No,  Israel  is  not  a  widower;  Israel  stands 
not  alone !  —  Ah,  children,  you  two  are  already  much 
indeed!  And  if  you  two  could  raise  yourselves  to  such 
a  high  degree,  why  should  I  think  ill  of  other  Jews? 
They  shall  yet  come !  Those  who  live  on  the  other  side 
of  Long  Street  cannot  come,  because  the  rioters  are  in 
the  way.     And  those  who  .  .  . 

The  Stout  One.  What  rioters?  Has  the  massacre 
started  already? 

Reb  Mayshe  [slowly].  Then  you  did  not  know  it  un- 
til just  now? 

The  Stout  One.  I  thought  the  whole  thing  would 
blow  over  without  a  pogrom.  [The  Thin  One  looks 
with  fright  towards  the  door  and  the  windows,  and  his 
teeth  begin  to  chatter.] 

Reb  Mayshe.  Well!  Why  have  you  turned  pale  all 
of  a  sudden,  and  what  have  your  teeth  begun  to  chatter 
for?  Be  firm,  soldiers  of  the  Lord!  Step  up  here. 
Here  before  the  Holy  Ark  we'll  take  our  stand,  uncon- 
querable, yielding  to  none.  .  .  .  [Both  idlers  look  with 
fright   toward  the   door  and  the   windows,  and  neither 


Act  II]  THE  LAST  JEW  117 

hears  a  word  that  Reb  Mayshe  spealcs.'\      Be  firm,  chil- 
dren.    Be  firm  and  summon  all  your  courage. 

The  Stout  One.  Have  they  already  reached  Long 
Street?     \Miere  did  it  begin .^^     When  did  it  begin? 

Reb  Mayshe.  \\Tiat's  the  difference  to  you,  when  or 
where  ?  The  enemy  is  near ;  it  may  burst  upon  us  at  any 
moment.     Be  firm  and  ready  for  them. 

The  Stout  One.  I'll  tell  you  the  truth.  I  still  hope 
to  God  they  won't  be  able  to  come  to  the  synagogue 
street.   .  .   . 

The  Thin  One.  Amen,  amen !  Lord  of  the  uni- 
verse! Would  that  they  perish  miserably  before  reach- 
ing the  synagogue  street ! 

Reb  Mayshe  [^with  a  penetrating  glance  at  both  of 
them].  And  suppose  that,  despite  all,  they  invade  the 
synagogue  street?  [The  idlers  look  at  each  other  in 
embarrassment  and  then  cast  frightened  glances  toward 
the  entrance  and  the  windows.  Reb  Mayshe  raises  his 
voice.]  Shall  you  run  away?  Shall  you  desert  the 
synagogue  and  its  sacred  scrolls  ? 

The  Stout  One.  But  I'm  telling  you,  I  hope  to 
God  .  .  . 

Reb  Mayshe.  Silence!  Take  not  His  name  in  vain. 
[More  calmly.]  Answer  me,  will  you  run  away?  Will 
you  hide  yourselves  ? 

The  Stout  One.  Say  yourself,  Reb  Mayshe,  how 
can  we  resist  the  Christians?  What  can  we  do  against 
them?     We,  feeble  Jews,  bench-warmers?  .  .  . 

The  Thin  One.  And  mighty  hungry  ones,  moreover. 

The  Stout  One.  Hungry  indeed !  We've  eaten 
practically  nothing  to-day.  Do  you  think  we're  really 
studying  Torah  here?  Then  let  me  tell  you  that  we 
were  simply  unable  to  study  because  of  our  hunger. 
Can  we  attempt  to  combat  healthy,  overfed  Gentiles? 


118  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  II 

Reb  Mayshe.  And  what  shall  become  of  the  Lord's 
holy  cause? 

The  Stout  One.  A  great  cause  indeed,  but  we're 
really  unsuited  to  it. 

The  Thin  One.  Ach,  ach,  ach! 

The  Stout  One.  What's  the  use  of  talking?  The 
moment  we  hear  the  first  noise,  we'll  disappear  from  the 
synagogue. 

Reb  Mayshe.  Woe  is  me.  What  do  I  hear? —  As 
I  blessed  you  before,  so  will  I  now  curse  you !  You  are 
wicked  Jews,  who  defile  the  synagogue  worse  than  the 
desecrating  hands  of  Gentiles.  What  do  you  seek  here? 
Your  studying  is  an  insult  to  Heaven,  your  praise  of  the 
Lord  is  blasphemy.  Out  of  my  sight,  or  I'll  raise  my  ax 
first  against  your  heads !  Out  with  you,  desecrators ! 
[The  Thin  One  moves  to  the  other  side  of  the  pulpit.] 

The  Stout  One  ^retreating].  Just  the  same,  you 
needn't  holler  so,  Reb  Mayshe.  You're  not  the  whole 
boss  here.      [Joins  The  Thin  One.] 

Reb  Mayshe  [struggling  with  his  anger].  And  for 
these  cowards  I  thanked  you,  O  God !  —  Lord,  where 
are  your  Jews?  Where  are  your  Jews,  O  Lord?  You 
made  me  a  preacher,  to  spread  your  word  among  the 
Jews,  to  teach  them  your  commandments  and  win  you 
their  hearts.  With  all  my  soul  I  spoke  to  them  untir- 
ingly, and  now  I  stand  before  you,. and  must  ask  "  Where 
are  your  Jews,  Lord  ?  Where  is  your  army  ?  "  Reveal 
them  to  me,  or  take  me  to  you.  I  can  do  no  more,  dear 
God!  [Hides  his  face  in  the  curtain.  Then,  in  a  stifled 
voice.]  Jews,  where  are  you?  Jews,  where  are  you? 
—  [He  arises.]  God,  have  you  sent  such  a  thought  to 
me?  Does  it  come  from  you?  [Spreading  his  arms 
apart.]  I  go.  I'll  search  through  the  streets;  I'll 
knock  at  every  door.     Jews,  God's  house  is  in  danger! 


Act  II]  THE  LAST  JEW  lid 

Jews,  desecrators  want  to  sully  our  holy  possessions ! 
Lord,  you  have  comforted  me,  and  gladness  fills  my  heart. 
I  liave  lived  my  long  life  for  this  day  alone.  Even  as 
Mattathias,  son  of  Johanan  the  High  Priest,  so  will  I 
to-day  assemble  all  the  faithful  Jews  to  wage  war  in 
defense  of  their  holy  symbols.  No,  I  do  not  stand  alone, 
a  sole  survivor.  I  am  a  pioneer,  an  organizer.  Thanks 
to  you,  O  Lord,  who  chose  me  for  the  glorious  task ! 
With  armies,  great  armies,  will  I  return  to  your  house. 
The  timorous  shall  glow  with  courage,  the  weak  shall 
become  strong.  Be  my  guide,  O  Lord !  I  go  !  He  who 
is  with  God,  follow  me!  [Goes  out,  with  a  firm  step. 
The  idlers  make  way  for  him,  running  over  to  the  other 
side  of  the  pulpit.'\ 

CURTAIN 


SECOND    SCENE 

Banker  Hershman's  study.  The  floor  is  covered  with 
large  rugs.  At  the  left  center  a  library  table, 
upon  which  lie  various  papers  and  books,  very 
neatly  arranged.  Against  the  left  wall  a  large  safe. 
Between  the  safe  and  the  table  an  arm-chair.  On 
the  other  sides  of  the  table  three  chairs.  The  right 
wall  is  taken  up  entirely  with  wide,  well-stocked 
bookcases.  At  the  rear,  the  door.  In  the  left  fore- 
ground a  rocking-chair.  Upon  the  left  wall  hang 
large  portraits  of  the  Russian  Czar  and  his  Czar- 
ina; on  the  right,  pictures  of  noted  Jews. 

Young  Hershman  is  seated  upon  the  commodious  rock- 
ing-chair, without  a  hat,  picking  his  teeth  and  read- 
ing a  paper.  At  the  right  stands  the  Rabbi  with 
one  of  the  Dayons.     They  are  looking  at  the  backs 


120  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  II 

of  the  books  in  the  cases.  The  Second  Dayon  is 
seated  upon  one  of  the  clfiairs  near  the  desk.  He 
sits  sideways,  as  if  he  were  sneering  from  a  physi- 
cal irritation. 

Thk  Rabbi  [adjniring  the  booJcs].  Fine  books!  Ex- 
cellent volumes ! 

First  Dayot>j^.  P-p-precious  c-c-collection ! 

Young  Hershman  [from  behind  his  paper].  For  ap- 
pearances' sake,  gentlemen.  Merely  for  the  sake  of  ap- 
pearances !  Just  for  the  looks  of  the  thing.  They're 
never  opened.  Neither  those  in  the  book-case,  nor  these 
on  the  table  here.  Since  I  can  remember,  he's  never 
even  opened  the  bookcase.  Except  to  put  different  books 
on  the  table  and  put  the  old  ones  back  in  the  case. 

First  Dayon.  You  m-mustn't  t-t-tell  t-t-tales  out  of 
s-s-school,  es-specially  about  your  own  f-father. 

Young  Hershman.  If  it's  the  truth,  a  person  may 
tell  it  even  about  his  father. 

The  Rabbi  [flatteringly].  What  a  worthy  son! 

Second  Dayon.  But  Mr.  Hershman  is  a  man  who 
carries  a  good  many  affairs  upon  his  mind. 

The  Rabbi  [still  looking  at  the  books].  Fine  books! 
Excellent  collection ! 

Hershman  [enters.  Goes  over  to  the  armchair].  I 
presented  the  soldiers  with  some  of  our  Passover  wine, 
so  that  they'd  have  more  patience  standing  guard  over 
the  house.  [Sits  down.]  Isn't  that  fine  of  His  Ex- 
cellency? Eh?  To  send  me  five  soldiers?  People  will 
surely  imagine  that  some  big  general  lives  here.  Ha-ha. 
—  Well,  gentlemen,  be  seated  and  .  .  .  [To  his  son.] 
As  for  you,  sit  and  listen  and  keep  silent.  And  don't 
mix  into  our  discussion.  Otherwise,  you  may  be  off  this 
moment. 


Act  II]  THE  LAST  JEW  121 

Young  Hershman  [from  behind  his  papers'].  Aliem! 
[The  Rabbi  sitS'  down  near  Hershman.  The  two 
Dayons  sit  dozen  opposite  each  other.] 

Hershman.  Now  then,  gentlemen. —  As  I  said  be- 
fore, I  invited  you  to  my  house  not  merely  that  you  should 
not  be  in  your  own  unprotected  homes  during  these 
dangerous  hours  and  have  something  evil  befall  you, — 
God  forbid  —  that,  of  course,  was  an  important  con- 
sideration. But  I  wanted  chiefly  to  discuss  with  you  a 
very  weighty  matter  that  concerns  most  intimately  the 
Jewish  race  and  its  religion.  I  am  therefore  doubly 
sorry  that  my  servant  did  not  find  Reb  Mayshe  at  home. 
First,  I  am  afraid  lest  he  meet  with  some  misfortune; 
second,  his  counsel  would  be  very  valuable  to  us  now. 

The  Rabbi.  Let  us  hope  to  God  that  no  misfortune 
will  overtake  him.  Perhaps  he  is  hidden  in  some  secure 
place,  and  God  willing,  when  the  danger  is  past,  we'll 
be  able  to  discuss  matters  with  him. 

Hershman  [someivhat  impatiently'].  Very  well.  .  .  . 
As  I  have  said,  naturally  my  heart  swells  with  grief  at 
thought  of  the  pogrom.  It  was  not  necessary;  it  should 
not  have  been  permitted  to  occur.  I  leave  out  of  con- 
sideration those  unfortunates  who  will  suffer  directly 
from  it.  A  goodly  number  of  Jews  will  perish,  and  per- 
haps more  will  be  wounded  and  robbed.  I  leave  all 
that  out  of  consideration.  I  am  looking  into  the  future. 
Who  knows  better  than  I  what  sufferings  are  in  store  for 
us  directly  after  the  pogrom?  Poverty  will  be  more 
widespread;  credit  will  be  at  a  standstill,  business  es- 
tablishments will  go  bankrupt.  Not  only  in  our  city, 
but  in  many  others  where  Jews  are  in  business.  In  a 
word,  times  will  be  bad,  merciful  God.  But,  as  I  havo 
said, —  and  this  is  the  main  point  —  our  Jews  are  alone 
to  blame.     What  says  the  Book.?     "  But  Jeshurun  waxed 


122  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  II 

fat,    and    kicked."     They    became   too   prosperous    and 
lusted  for  more  and  more. 

The  Rabbi.  That's  exactly  what  I'm  always  arguing. 

First  Dayon.  Wh-wh-o  doesn't  know  th-that? 
Wh-who  d-doesn't  s-see  it.'' 

Young  Hershman  [with  pious  chanting].  And  per- 
haps it's  just  the  contrary?  Perhaps  it's  because  things 
are  going  too  badly  with  them? 

Second  D'ayon.  There's  some  truth  in  that,  too. 

Hershman.  I  know  what  I'm  talking  about.  Things 
are  going  altogether  too  well  with  them.  That's  why 
they  raised  their  heads  too  high,  and  from  this  comes  all 
their  sorrows.  Who  knows  this  better  than  I  ?  I  hear 
our  Jews  spoken  of  very  often, —  in  the  highest  circles, 
you'll  understand, —  in  the  very  highest, —  and  I  tell 
you,  it  puts  me  to  shame.  Upon  my  word  of  honor,  it 
puts  me  to  shame!  [The  Rabbi  and  the  Dayons  sigh.] 
Not  long  ago  I  had  a  conversation  with  His  Excellency. 
And  he  says  to  me,  "  With  all  my  kindness  of  heart  .  .  •" 

Young  Hershman  [sighs  ironically  from  behind  his 
papers].  Ah!     Ah! 

Hershman  [looking  sternly  at  his  son].  "With  all 
my  kindness  of  heart,"  he  said,  "  and  with  all  my  good 
will  toward  them,  I  simply  can't  endure  your  Jews. 
They  are  altogether,"  he  says  to  me,  "  altogether  too 
insolent.  They  say,"  he  says  to  me,  "that  Jews  are 
timorous.  And  I  maintain,"  says  he,  "  that  they're  alto- 
gether too  bold.  They're  not  timid  enough,"  says  he. 
"  Fear,"  he  says,  "  fear,  fear,  is  just  what  they  lack. 
And  we'll  have  to  teach  them,"  says  he,  "  to  be  afraid." 

Second  Dayon.  Well,  well.  They'll  learn  to  be 
afraid  presently,  all  right. 

Hershman.  Now  what  could  I  reply  to  his  words? 
"  I  know,"  said  I,  "  that  we  have  black  sheep  among  us/' 


Act  IIJ  THE  LAST  JEW  123 

said  I.     "  But,"  said  I,  "  should  the  whole  flock  suffer 
on  account  of  the  few?  " 

First  Dayon.  G-g-good !     G-g-good ! 

Hershman.  "And  who  are  the  few?"  I  asked. 
"  Outcasts  of  whom  we  are  ourselves  ashamed/'  I  said. 
"  Young  folks  who  are  no  longer  Jews.  But,"  said  I, 
"  take  our  real  Jews,  those  who  know  their  people. 
Take,"  said  I,  "  take,  for  instance,  myself.  Am  I  not 
ready,"  said  I,  "  to  surrender  all  I  own  to  the  govern- 
ment and  to  the  country?  "  [Young  Hershman  coughs 
sarcastically.  Hershman  turns  to  him  sternly.^  Sit 
quietly  there,  or  out  you  go!  .  .  .  And  what  do  you 
think  he  answered?  "You,"  says  he,  "I  know  very 
well.  Would  that  all  Jews  were  like  you!  But  the 
good  we  derive  from  such  as  you  is  as  nothing  to  the 
evil  which  comes  from  the  others."  Those  are  his  very 
words.     Now  what  was  I  to  answer? 

The  Rabbi  [^sighing'].  Ah  me! 

The  Dayons   [shrug  their  shoulders^.  Ah-hem ! 

Young  Hershman  [from  behind  his  papers].  I'd  have 
known  what  to  answer  him,  all  right.  He  should  have 
spoken  with  me. 

Hershman  [with  an  angry  look].  I  know.  You're  a 
hero  —  with  your  tongue,  and  under  my  roof !  .  .  .  A 
fine  Liberal,  indeed!  [Frowning.]  So  then,  you  can 
see  for  yourselves  that  our  Jews  themselves  are  to  blame 
for  their  present  sorrows.  Now  this  must  not  happen 
again.  And  the  duty  of  seeing  to  it  lies  upon  us  —  espe- 
cially upon  you. 

First  Dayon.  I-I-I'm  ready  to  d-do  my  sh-share. 
[With  an.indignant  look  towards  The  Rabbi.]  S-some- 
thing  should  have  b-been  d-done  about  it  1-long  ago. 

The  Rabbi  [mocking  him  angrily].  Then  wh-why 
didn't  you  s-speak  up  b-before? 


124  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  II 

Hershman.  What's  past  is  past.  Now  we  must  at- 
tack the  matter  with  a  strong  hand. —  First  of  all,  gen- 
tlemen, we  must  discover  why  things  are  as  they  are. 
Whence  comes  this  evil  to  our  people.^  And  that's  not 
difficult  to  determine.  All  our  sorrows  grow  from  the 
fact  that  Judaism  has  fallen. 

Young  Hershman  [sneezing  from  behind  his  paper'\. 
A-chew ! 

The  Rabbi  [looJcing  meaningly  towards  Young 
Hershman]  .  Exactly.  Judaism  has  fallen !  And  there 
has  arisen  a  sinful  generation! 

First  Dayon.  The  s-synagogues  are  getting  emptier, 
the  r-religious  c-colleges  are  falling  off  in  attendance, 
and  the  Elementary  Hebrew  schools  are  far  fewer. 

Second  Dayon.  It's  enough  to  freeze  you  with  terror 
when  you  think  of  it,  upon  my  word ! 

Hershman  [impatient  at  the  interruption].  That's 
just  what  I'm  coming  to.  A  generation  has  arisen  which 
lives  without  a  faith  and  without  a  God.  They've  cast 
off  everything,  they've  thrown  off  every  restraint. 
Desecration  has  lifted  its  head,  apostasy  stalks  through 
the  streets,  and  there  is  not  a  home  that  has  not  been 
polluted  by  heresy.  The  youngsters  learn  from  their 
grown-ups,  the  common  folk  imitate  their  betters,  and 
once  the  fear  of  the  Holy  Law  was  overthrown,  there 
was  abandoned  also  the  fear  of  the  government.  Hence 
all  the  agitators  and  trouble-makers  among  us,  and  hence 
wherever  there  is  trouble  you'll  find  a  Jew. 

Second  Dayon.  True  words. 

The  Rabbi.  Exactly  what  I'm  always  saying. 
Hershman.  But   mere    talk   will   never   get   us    any- 
where.    Mere  words  can't  give  birth  to  deeds!     Let's 
have  less  talk  and  more  action.     Do  you  understand? 
We've  got  to  do  something! 


Act  II]  THE  LAST  JEW  125 

The  Rabbi.  We  certainly  must  do  something. 

First  Dayon.  B-but  how  are  we  going  to  g-go  about 
it.? 

Second  Dayon  [sighing].  Yes,  that's  it.  How? 
What.? 

Hershman.  How?  What?  That's  the  whole  trou- 
ble. Our  rabbis,  our  dayons,  our  preachers  —  excuse 
my  frankness  —  act  like  simpletons.  They  don't  know 
which  way  to  turn.  They've  allowed  the  reins  to  slip 
out  of  their  hands  and  let  things  go  as  they  please. 

Second  Dayon.  Rabbis,  dayons,  preachers.  .  .  . 
Hm!     What  can  we  do?     Preach?     Well,  so  we  preach ! 

Young  Hershman  [bursts  into  laughter  and  slaps 
his  knee].  Good!     Good! 

First  Dayon.  Wh-who  preaches?  D-do  I  preach  or 
d-do  you? 

Second  Dayon.  Then  Reb  Mayshe  does.  Can  you 
find  a  better  preacher?  When  he  talks  he  grips  your 
very  heart  so  that  you'd  imagine  even  a  stone  would  be 
moved.  But  what's  the  use?  His  sermons  and  his 
speeches  are  as  of  much  use  as  bleeding-cups  to  a 
corpse.  And  when  the  Rabbi  speaks?  Why,  recently 
he  spoke  on  the  strike  at  the  Tobacco  Factory,  and  he 
reproved  the  strikers.  What  good  did  it  do  ?  They  told 
him  he  spoke  as  he  did  because  he  had  received  a  twenty- 
five  rouble  note,  and  they  raised  a  regular  scandal  in 
the  synagogue. —  I  tell  you,  things  are  bad.  There's 
no  use  talking. 

Young  Hershman  [at  the  last  words  he  looks  from 
behind  his  paper  at  the  Rabbi,  with  an  ironic  smile. 
The  Rabbi  frowns]. 

Hershman  [angrily].  Then  do  you  know  what  I'll 
tell  you?  If  that's  what  you  think,  then  I'll  have  noth- 
ing more  to  say  to  you.     And  an  end  to  this  I     First  of 


126  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  II 

all,  we'll  have  to  get  other  rabbis  and  dayons,  and  then 
we'll  see  what  we  can  do  about  Judaism  and  the  other 
matters.     With  such  as  you  .  .  . 

The  Rabbi.  You  needn't  get  so  angry,  Mr.  Hersh- 
man.  You've  heard  only  one  man's  opinion.  Now  let 
me  speak.  I'll  tell  you  the  whole  truth.  It  was  only 
by  accident  that  you  were  the  first  to  call  us  together, 
to  discuss  ways  and  means  of  improving  our  people's 
condition.  I  have  been  thinking  very  much  on  the  mat- 
ter lately,  and  sooner  or  later  I'd  perhaps  have  called 
just  such  a  meeting  as  this. 

Hershman.  Perhaps  !     Perhaps  ! 

The  Rabbi.  The  only  thing  that  kept  me  from  doing 
so  was  the  uncertainty  as  to  your  opinion, —  where  you 
stood  on  the  question. 

Hershman.  What?  You  were  in  doubt  as  to  my 
Judaism  and  my  piety?  In  other  words,  you've  always 
considered  me  a  hypocrite? 

The  Rabbi.  Don't  talk  like  that!  Long  life  to  you, 
how  could  I  ever  think  such  folly?  What  I  wanted  to 
know  was  whether  you  were  inclined  to  undertake  the 
matter  with  an  iron  hand.  As  to  your  piety  and  your 
fear  of  the  Lord,  who,  indeed,  can  be  in  doubt?  I'll 
say  as  His  Excellency  said:  Would  that  all  Jews  were 
like  you!  Then  there  would  have  been  no  pogrom  to- 
day and  this  meeting  would  not  have  taken  place.  But 
when  I  saw  that  really,  as  you  said,  there's  not  a  home 
that  has  not  been  stained  by  heresy,  I  felt  that  I  must 
consider  the  matter  well.  [Farcningly.l  Why  should 
I  deny  it?     I  didn't  want  to  have  you  against  me. 

Hershman  [flattered.  Taps  his  fingers  upon  the  ta- 
ble, but  speaks  sternly.']  That  was  very  wrong  on  your 
part,  I  must  tell  you.  In  such  a  case  you  should  not 
have  hesitated,  even  if  I  were  against  you. 


Act  II]  THE  LAST  JEW  127 

The  Rabbi.  And  suppose  I  dared  to  oppose  you? 
Between  you  and  me,  what  does  a  Rabbi  amount  to 
against  a  Mr.  Hershman.''  But  as  the  matter  stands, 
now  .  .  .  now  I'll  tell  you  that  night  and  day  I  have 
not  ceased  thinking  v/hat  could  be  done  to  prevent  our 
faith  from  being  lost  altogether.  [Blozcs  his  nose-  and 
takes  a  pinch  of  snuff.  The  Dayons  do  likewise. 
Hershman  folloxcS'  their  example,  and  leans  hack  in  his 
chair. "j 

Young  Hershman    [sighing   sarcastically'].  Ah,   well. 

The  Rabbi  [with  importance].  First,  we  must  dis- 
cover the  reason  for  the  decline  of  Judaism, —  where  the 
root  of  it  all  is.  And  upon  tliis  point  we  are  all  agreed, 
—  that  the  evil  root  lies  in  the  secular  schools  and  the 
modern  education,  in  the  newspaj^ers  and  the  books  that 
invade  our  Jewish  homes,  in  these  would-be  teachers 
and  writers  that  have  swarmed  in  our  midst  just  like 
worms  on  a  corpse.  And  once  we  know  the  cause  of 
it  all,  we  can  easily  know  how  to  pull  it  up  by  the 
roots. 

Young  Hershman  [whistling  with  mock  incredu- 
lity]. So!  You're  going  into  it  as  deep  as  all  that! 
Perhaps  you'll  boycott  secular  education,  too? 
,  The  Rabbi.  Most  certainly  we'll  boycott  it!  And 
we'll  eradicate  it  completely.  As  our  sages  did  in  their 
generation,  so  will  we  do  in  ours.  When  Judaism  — 
Heaven  protect  us  —  was  in  peril,  they  fought  the  new 
education,  and  even  so  must  we  oppose  it  to-day. 
Everything  evil  grows  from  it.  The  whole  epidemic  of 
conversion.  They  call  it  the  torch  of  progress  and  the 
sun  of  enlightenment,  and  I  say  it  is  a  torch  witli  which 
a  house  is  set  on  fire,  and  a  sun  that  gives  us  sun-stroke. 
It  is  responsible  for  all  our  sinners.  It  has  severed 
children  from  their  parents  and  has  ruined  the  whole 


128  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  II 

Jewish  people.  We  must  stamp  it  out  thoroughly,  to- 
gether with  all  its  adlierents. 

Young  Hershman  [^bursts  into  laughter  and  slaps 
his  kneel. 

Hershman.  In  the  first  place,  I've  already  warned 
you  to  sit  there  and  shut  up;  otherwise  get  out.  Sec- 
ondly, let  me  tell  you  that  the  Rabbi's  words  are  as  true 
as  gospel.  We've  got  to  tear  it  out,  root  and  branch,  and 
it  will  not  be  a  difficult  task,  either.  We'll  begin  by  hav- 
ing all  the  Jewish  schools  closed,  the  Jewish  papers  sus- 
pended, and  by  taking  away  the  right  of  Jewish  children 
to  attend  the  public  schools.  I'm  sure  the  government 
will  do  whatever  we  ask  it  to.  Just  leave  that  part  of 
it  to  me.  And  if,  God  forbid,  the  government  refuses  to 
support  us  in  these  measures,  we'll  have  to  arrange  it 
among  ourselves  that  the  schools  and  the  papers  and  the 
teachers  and  writers  die  for  lack  of  support.  And  we'll 
also  find  a  way  of  preventing  parents  from  sending  their 
children  to  Gentile  schools. 

The  Rabbi.  There !  Don't  you  see  that  without  you 
I  should  have  been  helpless?  Take  your  influence  with 
the  imperial  powers.  Who  can  accomplish  his  purpose 
with  them  as  easily  as  you.''  Then  again,  in  all  arrange- 
ments that  we  Jews  agree  upon  among  ourselves,  we 
need  a  strong  hand  to  crush  our  opponents  to  the  wall, 
if  necessary.  And  now  since  you've  taken  your  firm 
stand,  other  wealthy  people  will  join  in  the  movement, 
and  once  the  rich  join  us,  then  we  can  do  as  you  say: 
close  the  schools, —  suppress  the  newspapers.  In  place 
of  these  we'll  issue  our  own  papers,  establish  our  own 
institutions.   .  .  . 

Young  Hershman  [laughing'].  And  I'll  tell  you  that 
all  your  nice  plans  will  come  to  naught, —  you  might  just 


Act  II]  THE  LAST  JEW  129 

as  well  hunt  for  yesterday.     "  Vanity  of  vanities,  all  is 
vanity."     I  tell  you,  I'll  be  the  very  first  to  .  .  . 

Hershman.  Will  you  shut  up,  my  .  .  .  my  advanced 
Liberal!  [To  the  others.^  Don't  let  his  talk  surprise 
you.  You  must  know  I  permitted  him  to  sit  here  during 
our  discussion  because  I  am  sure  that  in  time  he  will  be 
one  of  our  most  ardent  supporters.  [Young  Hersh- 
man explodes  with  laughter.]  At  the  time  of  the  great 
strike  he  was  the  first  to  cry  that  we  should  appeal  to 
the  Rabbi.  And  it's  really  to  his  own  advantage  that 
the  laborers  should  be  pious.  [Catching  himself.]  Er, 
er  .  .  .  that  is,  I  am  sure  that  in  time  he'll  be  of 
great  assistance  to  us,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  piety  alone. 
So  then, —  what  was  I  saying?  —  Yes,  in  regard  to  the 
Avorkers  .  .  . 

First  Dayon.  Y-yes,  I  w-wanted  to  s-say  s-some- 
thing  about  them  myself.  Ac-cording  to  my  opinion  we 
ought  to  deliver  all  these  w-workers, —  the  whole  b-bunch 
of  Revolutionists  and  S-socialists  —  may  their  name  and 
memory  be  obliterated  —  into  the  hands  of  the  govern- 
ment. 

Hershman.  That's  the  one  and  only  proper  thing  to  do. 

First  Dayon  [growing  excited].  We  mustn't  spare 
even  our  own  children,  our  brothers  or  sisters.  We 
must  show  n-no  m-mercy !  W-we  alone  must  help  the 
government  to  clean  them  out,  so  that  not  a  t-trace  of 
them  shall  remain. 

Second  Dayon.  I  don't  like  that  at  all.  It  smacks 
too  much  of  informing.     Fie! 

Hershman  [to  the  Second  Dayon].  And  I  tell  you, 
Reb  Zissel,  that  you're  a  fool  and  blockhead  —  pardon 
the  phrase  —  a  blockhead,  that's  what  you  are,  not  a 
Dayon,,  but  an  old  granny ! 


130  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  II 

The  Eabbi.  We  must  wage  the  Lord's  battle. 

First  Dayon    [with  heat].  P-precisely ! 

The  Rabbi.  We  must  cleanse  the  name  of  His  chosen 
people,  that  has  become  sullied  among  the  nations. 

First   Dayon    [more  excited  than  ever'].  P-precisely! 

The  Rabbi.  We  must  .  .  .  [There  is  a  loud  ringing 
without.] 

Hershman.  Who  can  that  be?  [To  his  son.]  See 
who  it  is.  [Young  Hershman  gets  up  very  slowly. 
There  is  a  scuffle  behind  the  door.] 

Reb  Mayshe  [forces  his  way  through  the  door, 
thrusting  somebody  aside].  Announce  me.''  Let  your 
master  know  I've  come?  Let  me  go!  I'll  announce 
myself!  [Advances  into  the  room.]  Jews,  God's  house 
is  in  danger!  Jews,  unclean  hands  want  to  stain  our 
Holy  Scroll ! 

Hershman.  Reb  Mayshe,  what  is  the  matter  with 
you? 

Reb  Mayshe.  Can't  you  hear?  The  synagogue  is  im- 
periled.    The  sacred  scrolls  are  threatened. 

The  Rabbi.  Has  the  synagogue  been  attacked  al- 
ready? [The  Second  Dayon  smacks  his  lips  with  in- 
dignant horror.] 

Reb  Mayshe.  Not  yet,  but  the  rioters  have  already 
reached  the  further  end  of  the  street.  .  .  . 

Hershman.  Then  why  did  you  have  to  burst  in  on  us 
in  such  a  terrible  rush  and  scare  us  all  to  death  ? 

First  Dayon.  R-really,  w-why?  Is  this  a  public 
bath-house? 

Reb  Mayshe.  Jews,  the  enemy  is  almost  upon  us! 
Why  this  useless  questioning  as  to  how  I  came  in?  I 
tell  you  the  synagogue  is  in  danger,  and  alone.  The 
Books  of  the  Law  will  be  desecrated,  and  nobody  is  there 


Act  II]  THE  LAST  JEW  131 

to  defend  them.  Do  you  expect  me,  in  such  a  crisis,  to 
wait  till  your  servant  announces  me?  Every  minute  is 
precious,  and  I've  already  lost  too  many  running  to  the 
rabbi  and  the  dayons.—  Why  do  you  stop  to  argue 
with  me,  good  heavens !  The  synagogue  and  the  scrolls 
are  in  danger ! 

Hershman.  Keep  calm,  my  dear  man.  What  would 
you  have  us  do? 

Reb  Mayshe.  Wiiat  would  I  have  you  do?  Need  I 
wish  it?  Do  you  not  know  your  duty?  Do  you  not 
know  what  God  asks  of  you,  in  this  moment?  Keep 
calm,  you  say?     Lord  of  Abraham! 

The  Rabbi.  But  really,  in  truth.  What  are  we  to  do 
about  it? 

Reb  Mayshe.  Need  I  tell  you?  You  must  defend 
the  synagogue !  You  must  protect  the  Holy  Scroll  with 
your  lives ! 

Young  Hershman   [bursts       out       laughing].  Fine! 

There's  talk  for  you ! 

Reb  Mayshe.  Laughter?     Laughter  at  such  a  time? 

Hershman.  How  can  anybody  help  laughing  at  you, 
Reb  Mayshe?  You've  taken  something  into  your  head 
and  don't  know  yourself  what  you  want.  Who  is  to  run 
to  the  defense  of  the  synagogue?  I?  The  Rabbi? 
The  Dayons? 

Reb  Mayshe  [zdth  stern  emphasis].  You!  The 
Rabbi!  The  Dayons!  Who  else,  tlien,  if  not  you  as 
leaders?  Do  you  stop  to  question?  Mr.  Hershman! 
Reb  Henzel!     Dayons! 

Hershman.  Are  you  joking,  Reb  Mayshe? 

The  Rabbi.  Hm! 

Reb  Mayshe.  Woe  is  me!  Woe!  [Stands  in  stupe- 
faction.] 


132  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  II 

Second  Davon.  I  understand  his  meaning  all  right. 
But  to  tell  the  truth  I've  been  suffering  so  much  lately 
that  I  can  barely  stand  on  my  feet. 

Reb  Mayshe.  I  .  .  .  joking  .  .  .  >  Mr.  Hershman, 
Gabbai,  how  can  you  mention  such  a  thing?  Dayons ! 
Do  not  your  hearts  bleed  to  behold  the  danger  that  hov- 
ers over  our  holy  possessions.^  Pious  Jews,  overseers  of 
our  faithj  do  not  your  fists  instinctively  double  up  against 
the  desecrators  of  our  Holy  Scroll?  No,  you  must  be 
joking  with  me.  But  I  warn  you,  delay  not,  lest  it  be 
too  late.  This  is  no  time  for  jest  or  for  bandying  words. 
We  need  deeds.  Come!  He  who  is  with  God,  follow 
me! 

Young  Hershman   [bursts  once  more  into  laughterl. 

Hershman  [motioning  to  his  son'\.  Sh-sh! —  Listen 
to  reason,  Reb  Mayshe.  That's  a  fine  slogan  — "  He 
who  is  with  God,  follow  me  " —  Excellent.  But,  Reb 
Mayshe,  pardon  my  saying  it,  you  speak  rank  nonsense. 
Why,  only  just  before  you  came  in  we  were  saying  that 
something  must  be  done, —  something  far,  far  more  im- 
portant to  the  Jewish  community.  If  you're  willing, 
calm  down  and  we'll  talk  it  over.  I  sent  for  you  only  a 
little  while  ago,  but  your  house  was  closed. 

Reb  Mayshe.  Is  this  a  time  for  talking?  How  can  I 
be  calm  when  the  synagogue  is  in  danger  ?  How  can  you 
talk  so  cold-bloodedly,  and  so  calmly,  when  at  this  very 
moment  foul  hands  may  be  desecrating  our  holy  of 
holies?  Talk!  Come,  I  tell  you.  Offend  not  the  Al- 
mighty ! 

Hershman.  Well,  if  you  refuse  to  come  to  your  senses, 
and  persist  in  shouting  your  same  old  song,  there's  no 
use  talking  to  you  any  further.  But  I  tell  you  that  the 
execution  of  our  plan  is  far  more  important  and  neces- 
sary to  our  synagogues  and  our  holy  scrolls  and  to  the 


Act  II]  THE  LAST  JEW  133 

whole  Jewish  people.  We  are  evolving  a  plan  tliat  will 
protect  our  holy  scrolls  and  synagogues  forever,  that  will 
preserve  our  entire  Judaism  from  ruin,  and  return  our 
Torah  and  our  faith  to  their  ancient  beauty  and  their 
honor  of  yore. 

Reb  Mayshe.  Must  and  can  your  plan  be  executed  at 

once .'' 

Hershman.  It  is  a  far-reaching  plan,  Reb  Mayshe, 
extending  into  years  and  generations.   .  .   . 

Reb  Mayshe.  Then  let  your  plan  wait  for  later,  till 
to-morrow  or  the  day  after,  for  years  and  for  generations, 
and  come  now  to  defend  the  synagogue ! 

Hershman.  Why  have  you  taken  it  into  your  head, 
Reb  Mayshe,  that  we  should  rush  to  certain  death  .  .  .    ? 

Reb  Mayshe.  To  glorious  martyrdom! 

Hershman.  .  .  .  And  leave  our  plan  .  .  . 

Reb  Mayshe.  .  .  .  For  our  survivors  to  carry  for- 
ward ! 

Hershman.  We  must  not  do  that.  We  do  not  know 
who  the  survivors  will  be. 

Reb  Mayshe.  They  will  be  Jews!  Strengthened  and 
inspired  by  our  heroic  death,  they  will  be  strong  Jews! 

Hershman.  That's  mere  talk.  I  maintain  that  the 
strong  Jews,  the  true  ones,  will  be  massacred,  only  to 
have  the  evil  ones,  the  dross,  the  apostates  and  the  rene- 
gades remain.  What  will  then  become  of  our  faith  and 
our  Holy  Scroll?  And  above  all,  what  shall  we  have 
gained  by  it?  Let's  suppose  we  go  to  defend  the  syna- 
gogue,—  all  of  us,  great  heroes.  I,  you,  the  Rabbi,  Reb 
Aaron  and  Reb  Zissel.  And  what  will  be  the  result? 
We'll  be  slaughtered,  the  synagogue  will  be  demolished 
anyway,  and  the  scrolls  desecrated.     Isn't  that  so? 

The  Rabbi.  How  could  it  be  otherwise? 

fiRST  Dayon.  P-precisely  s-so! 


1S4  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  II 

Reb  Mayshe.  Not  at  all!  It  is  possible  to  desecrate 
the  scrolls  only  when  Jews  refuse  to  defend  them!  In 
their  being  abandoned  lies  the  real  shame.  In  their 
being  forsaken  dwells  their  real  debasement.  But  when 
Jews  are  ready  to  die  for  them,  they  cannot  be  dese- 
crated, even  if  our  enemies  sully  them  in  the  most  de- 
grading manner.  We  must  wipe  off  their  stains  with  our 
blood,  and  they  will  emerge  a  thousandfold  more  clean. 
Their  honor  will  grow  and  great  will  be  their  name. 
That  is  the  glorious  secret  of  martyrdom. 

Second  Dayon.  True  words ! 

Reb  Mayshe.  Pillars  of  the  Torah,  hide  not  behind 
your  plan !  Come  to  yourselves !  Come  to  God ! 
Brothers,  if  we  cannot  live  like  Jews,  let  us  at  least  die 
like  Jews ! 

Hershman.  What  do  you  mean  — "  we  cannot  live  like 
Jews  "?  We  must  do  so!  That's  just  why  we  want  to 
live! 

Reb  Mayshe  [sternly].  Hide  not  behind  your  plans! 

Hershman.  Don't  shout  at  me  like  that,  Reb  May- 
she  !  And  whom  do  you  take  us  for,  that  you  presume 
to  tell  us  not  to  hide  behind  our  plans?  Do  you  mean 
to  insinuate  that  our  plan  is  a  hoax?  A  pretext?  Are 
we  hypocrites?  Need  we  be  afraid  of  you  and  court 
your  favor? 

Reb  Mayshe.  God,  give  me  persuasion,  give  me 
speech,  send  me  words  !     Guide  me ! 

Hershman.  You  should  have  prayed  for  that  long 
ago.  Then  perhaps  your  sermons  would  have  had  better 
effect,  and  indifference  would  not  be  so  rife  among  Jews, 
and  we  wouldn't  have  had  this  pogrom. 

Second  Dayon  [smacks  his  lips  in  reproof  of  Hersh- 
man]. 

Reb  Mayshe.  Lord  God  of  Abraham !     Shall  I  weep  ? 


Act  II]  THE  LAST  JEW  135 

Shall  I  curse?  Shall  I  implore?  [In  tears.']  Jews, 
God's  house  is  in  danger !  Jews,  vandals  want  to  dese- 
crate our  Torah !  Jews, —  you  are  called  the  worthy 
pillars  of  tlie  Holy  Law,  will  3'ou  not  defend  it?  The 
precious  Scroll,  the  loving,  tender,  sweet  depository  of 
our  faith,  will  be'  alone  when  it  is  fallen  upon  by  the 
desecrators !  It  will  be  alone,  abandoned  and  forsaken, 
—  and  it  will  be  torn,  spat  upon,  soiled,  trampled  under 
foot!  Woe  is  me !  Torn,  forsaken  .  .  .  our  Torah,  our 
one  remaining  glory !  Pillars  of  the  Holy  Law,  why  do 
you  hesitate?  How  can  you  bear  to  sit  secure  in  the 
protection  of  soldiers,  concocting  plans,  and  leave  the 
synagogue  to  its  fate  ?  Lay  aside  your  plans  !  Judaism 
will  be  saved  without  you.  Now  the  synagogue  must  be 
saved.  With  what  heart  will  you  later  enter  the  ruined 
building,  when  you  recall  that  it  might  have  been  res- 
cued, but  lacked  defenders?  With  what  eyes  will  you 
behold  the  torn  and  sullied  sacred  pages  that  will  be  still 
more  sullied  by  the  fact  that  you  deserted  them  in  their 
need?  With  what  tongue  will  you  speak  to  the  people 
about  Judaism,  and  the  Holy  Law  and  our  Lord,  when 
you,  who  should  have  been  the  first  to  protect  the  Holy 
Law,  were  the  first  to  forsake  it?  You  overseers  of  Ju- 
daism, God  has  entrusted  a  sacred  duty  to  you  —  what 
will  your  answer  be  when  He  calls  you  to  account? 
Woe,  that  I  should  have  to  tell  you  this !  Rabbi,  Gab- 
bai  and  Dayons,  bethink  yourselves !  To-day  is  your 
day !  The  day  for  you  to  show  that  you  have  earned 
your  distinction  as  Rabbi,  Gabbai  and  Dayons  of  the 
Jewish  people!  This  is  your  day  of  martyrdom,  the 
day  on  which  you  can  glorify  the  name  of  our  Lord,  tlie 
honor  of  our  Holy  Law  and  the  name  of  our  people ! 
Why  do  you  still  hesitate?  What  are  you  waiting  for? 
Let  us  be  off !     Let  us  run.  .  .  . 


136  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  II 

Young  Hershman  [laughing  sarcastically'\.  Ah,  Reb 
Mayshe,  my  dear  Reb  Mayshe,  you've  lived  so  many 
years  and  aren't  any  wiser  yet.  What  nonsense  have 
you  talked  into  yourself?  What  synagogue  must  be  de- 
fended, and  what  "sacred"  scrolls?  The  synagogue  in 
which  ostentatious  Jews  fight  for  religious  honors?  In 
which  they're  not  ashamed  to  raise  the  most  disgraceful 
scandals,  in  which  they  drink  whisky  at  death-anniversa- 
ries, as  if  they  were  in  a  tavern?  The  "  sacred  "  scrolls 
which  are  written  by  Michel,  the  scribe,  and  which  have 
been  desecrated  a  thousand  times  already,  during  the 
services?  What  have  you  taken  into  your  head,  Reb 
Mayshe?  Whom  do  you  expect  to  risk  his  life  to-day 
for  such  things?  Why  do  you  make  of  yourself  a  fool 
and  a  saint? 

Reb  Mayshe  \loohs  at  the  others  in  amazement,  hut 
they  avoid  his  glance}.  Gentlemen,  are  you  silent?  Do 
you  permit  that  blasphemer  to  open  his  mouth,  and  bear 
it  mutely  without  rising  in  fury  and  stopping  his  shame- 
ful lips! 

Hershman.  You'd  better  shut  up!  I've  told  you  a 
thousand  times  not  to  intrude! 

Second  Dayon.  That  was  really  a  disgraceful  imper- 
tinence. 

Hershman.  And  to  you,  Reb  Mayshe,  let  me  say  that 
we've  had  enough  of  your  farce.  To  you,  the  synagogue 
is  most  important;  to  us,  Judaism.  And  let  there  be  an 
end  to  all  this. 

Reb  Mayshe.  Lord  of  Israel,  now  will  I  curse!  I 
can  do  no  more.  Dear  God,  you  have  given  me  tears 
and  soft  words,  now  give  me  stones  and  lances  and 
spleen!  As  your  synagogue  and  your  scrolls  are  aban- 
doned and  forsaken  by  them,  even  so  may  they  be  for- 
saken and  abandoned,  without  any  one  to  console  them 


Act  II]  THE  LAST  JEW  137 

or  to  mourn  them.  May  the  shame  that  will  be  done  to 
your  holy  gifts  descend  upon  their  heads  and  deliver 
their  names  to  mockery  and  scorn.  May  the  mire  in 
which  your  holy  scrolls  will  be  trampled  eat  into  their 
bodies  and  souls,  so  that  neither  water  nor  all  the  fires 
of  liell  be  able  to  cleanse  it ! 

Hershman.  The  man's  gone  crazy,  upon  my  word. 

Reb  Mayshe.  Woe  upon  your  heads,  worthies  of  the 
Law,  to  whom  the  Holy  Law  is  but  a  mask, —  a  matter  of 
business.  God's  wrath  descend  upon  you,  dissemblers, 
hypocrites ! 

Hershman  [angrili/  pounding  the  table  with  his  fist]. 
Reb  Mayshe ! 

The  Rabbi.  What  is  this!     What  words  are  these? 

Reb  Mayshe.  Dear  God,  not  in  mansions  are  your 
Jews  to  be  found,  and  not  under  the  fur-caps  of  the 
rabbis.  I  have  gone  astray,  dear  Father,  and  have  taken 
the  wrong  path.  But  I  will  find  your  Jews;  I  will  yet 
assemble  your  host.  The  day  is  yet  long.  Sun,  do  not 
set.  I  must  find  Jews.  God,  protect  your  house ! 
[Hurries  out.] 

Young  Hershman   [laughing].  There  goes  a  fanatic! 

Hershman.  Mad.  Stark  mad.  But  he'll  be  our 
preacher  no  more. 

Second  Dayon  [with  lowered  eyes],  I,  too,  am 
afraid  he'll  no  more  be  a  preacher.  [With  tears  in  his 
voice.]  We  may  well  mourn  him,  for  he  goes  to  a  sure 
death.  [The  others  lower  their  gaze,  their  foreheads 
furrowed  in  thought.     A  deep  silence.] 

curtain 


ACT  III 

A  large  clearing  in  the  woods,  approached  from  the  right 
by  a  narrow  path.  In  the  foreground,  center,  lies 
MiNYE,  resting  against  the  stump  of  a  tree.  At  her 
side  sits  Leon,  his  face  buried  in  his  hands,  his  hat 
on  the  grass  nearby.  In  the  background  a  group 
of  Jews  reading  Psalms  in  subdued,  tearful  voices. 
In  the  front  sits  Yekef;  behind,  among  the  trees, 
many  women  and  children,  choking  with  tears  and 
using  their  handkerchiefs  freely.  The  atmosphere 
is  filled  with  a  sad  funereal  stir.  The  entire  crowd 
is  much  frightened;  people  often  turn  about  sud- 
denly, fear  in  their  eyes,  and  at  the  slightest  noise 
there  is  general  terror. 

MiNYE  [after  a  long  pause].  Speak  to  me,  Leon.  I 
am  afraid  I  shall  go  mad.  [Leon's  head  sinks  lower.] 
Speak  to  me,  my  son.  Have  you  nothing  to  say  to  your 
mother  ?  —  I  feel  that  I  am  at  the  end  of  my  strength. 
Ah,  Lord  of  the  universe,  where  are  they  now.'*  Where 
are  they  now.^*  Are  they  still  among  the  living?  — 
Speak  to  me;  say  something;  don't  leave  me  alone  with 
my  thoughts;  don't  abandon  me  to  the  tortures  of  my 
imagination. 

Leon.  What  can  I  say  to  you,  mother? 

Minye.  What  can  you  say  to  me?  My  son,  my  son! 
I  can't  remember  the  time  that  you  spoke  with  me.  You 
lived  under  my  roof,  a  stranger.  I  knew  nothing  of  your 
sorrows  or  your  joys, —  just  as  if  I  were  dead  to  you. 

138 


Act  III]  THE  LAST  JEW  139 

And  I  used  to  look  at  you,  even  as  now, —  to  try  and 
understand  whether  you  really  were  my  son,  my  little 
Leon.  Was  it  really  you  that  nestled  in  my  bosom  and 
sucked  my  milk  and  blood?  Heaven,  how  many  nights 
have  I  lain  awake  for  you!  Wliat  have  I  not  suffered 
and  endured  for  you  —  through  all  your  illnesses  and  I 
know  not  what  else,  until  I  brought  you  to  manhood. 
And  now  —  you're  as  nothing  to  me, —  a  stranger !  And 
to  tell  the  truth,  I  feel  a  certain  fear  of  you.  But  what's 
the  use  of  talking?  It's  my  lot,  I  suppose.  Perhaps  I 
deserve  no  better.  But  now,  do  try  and  think  of  some- 
thing to  say  to  me.  You  are  a  wise  man,  educated, — 
you  are  a  writer.  Speak  to  me,  my  son;  speak  to  me. 
[Places  her  hands  about  her  head,  which  she  shakes  in 
deepening  despair.^ 

Leon.  You'll  not  understand  me,  mother  dear.     You'll 
not  understand. 

MiNYE.  Then  speak  so  that  I  may  understand.     Do 
you  think  me  such  a  fool,  then  ?     Tell  me,  explain  to  me 
why  we  are  such  strangers  to  one  another.     Wliy  can't  I 
understand  you  ?     Speak  to  me,  Leon.     Speak  to  me. 
Leon.  Not  to-day,  mother.     Not  to-day. 
MiNYE   [restraining  her  tears.]   Let  it  be  so,  then. 
Leon    [after  a  brief  pause,  burying   his  head  in  his 
hands].  Mother,  when  we  come  home  I'll  explain  all  my 
writings  to  you.     I'll  translate  and  discuss  every  word, 
and  then, —  you'll  make  a  large  fire  and  help  me  burn  a 
goodly  part,  if  not  all,  of  what  I  have  written.     Both 
verse  and  prose. 

MiNYE  [shakes  her  head  despairingly  and  weeps. 
Meanwhile  the  praying  has  stopped.  Yekef  conies  over 
to  his  wife  and  son]. 

Yekef.  Leon,  perhaps  you'll  join  us  in  the  sunset 
prayers.     Come,  take  your  liat.     We  need  only  you  for 


140  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  III 

a  minyan.'^  [Leon  does  not  notice  his  father.']  Do  you 
hear  me  or  not?  With  you  we'll  have  just  ten  men. 
Obey  your  father  this  once. —  You  know  that  for  a  long 
time  I've  never  spoken  a  word  to  you  on  these  matters. 
Come  now.  [Leon  does  not  move.  Yekef  continues 
tenth  more  earnest  entreaty.]  I  would  not  ask  you,  but 
what  are  we  to  do  if  you  are  the  only  one  that  can  com- 
plete the  minyan.''  Come,  won't  you? —  It  will  be  a 
shame  to  go  back  and  tell  them  that  you  refuse.  [Leon 
is  motionless.]  Well,  what  do  you  say  to  this,  Minye? 
Fine,  eh?     Beautiful,  eh? 

Minye.  Didn't  you  know  that  before? 

Yekef.  If  I  wouldn't  restrain  myself,  I'd  .  .  .  I'd 
.  .  .  See,  they're  beginning  to  pray  already.  What  will 
they  say  of  me  now,  I  ask  you?  Fine,  eh?  Excellent, 
eh?  See,  they've  come  to  the  Eighteen  Benedictions.^ 
Would  that  a  curse  overtook  all  my  children  on  the  same 
day! 

Minye.  Madman!  You  don't  know  what  you  speak! 
Better  go  and  say  your  prayers  with  the  others. 

Yekef.  I  ...  I  ...  I'll  ..  . 

Reb  Mayshe  [from  within.  His  voice  comes  from  a 
distance,  from  the  direction  of  the  path].  Jews!  God's 
house  is  in  danger !  Jews !  Vandals  want  to  desecrate 
the  Holy  Scroll!  [The  murmuring  of  the  prayers  siops 
suddenly.  All  listen,  terror  written  upon  their  faces. 
The  voice  of  Reb  Mayshe  comes  nearer.]  Jews !  God's 
house  is  in  danger !  Jews !  Vandals  want  to  desecrate 
our  Holy  Scroll ! 

Minye.  That's  father's  voice. 

1  The  quorum  of  ten  males  above  the  age  of  thirteen  required  for  all 
religious  services.     Jews  keep  their  heads  covered  during  all  prayers. 

2  These  are  prayed  in  silence,  standing,  and  must  not  be  interrupted 
by  speech  upon  the  part  of  the  worshipper. 


Act  III]  THE  LAST  JEW  Ul 

Yekef  [tremhlitig].  Yes!  I  would  swear  it's  my 
father ! 

Leon  [^rvho  has  arisen,  and  has  looked  through  the 
trees].  Yes,  it's  grandpa. 

MiNYE.  Oh!  ^^^lat  can  be  the  matter  with  him? 
[Those  who  are  at  prayer  stand  in  mute  terror.  The 
women  gather  the  children  about  them.] 

Reb  Mayshe  [Ins  voice  is  now  very  near].  Jews! 
God's  house  is  in  danger!  Jews!  Vandals  want  to 
desecrate  our  Holy  Scroll! 

MiNYE  [whispering  to  Yekef].  In  God's  name,  don't 
mention  a  word  to  him  about  your  brother's  family  hav- 
ing gone  over  to  the  Christians ! 

Reb  Mayshe  [runs  in,  disheveled,  gasping].  Ah! 
Here  they  are !  Thanks,  O  God,  that  you  have  brought 
me  here !  —  Jews,  do  you  hear  ?  Quickly  !  Let's  run, 
the  synagogue  is  threatened, —  we  must  save  our  sacred 
possessions!  Jews,  there  is  no  time  to  lose!  [The  men 
in  the  praying  group  begin  to  sway  piously  back  and 
forth,  and  with  exaggerated  piety  they  move  their  lips  in 
silent  prayer.  Those  who  have  prayer-books  suddenly 
bury  their  glances^  in  them;  those  who  have  none  close 
their  eyes  tight.  The  women  commence  to  weep  loudly 
and  blow  their  noses.  Reb  Mayshe  looks  about.] 
What!  Oh,  yes,  I  see.  They're  reciting  the  Eighteen 
Benedictions. 

Yekef.  If  you  had  come  here  just  a  moment  sooner 
we  should  have  had  a  minyan. 

Reb  Mayshe  [Does  not  look  at  Yekef.  Speaks  more 
firmly].  Jews,  I  absolve  you.  I  authorize  you  to  in- 
terrupt the  Eighteen  Benedictions.  The  synagogue 
stands  alone,  and  the  enemy  is  near.  God  needs  you 
now.     Come.     You  can  pray  in  the  synagogue.     Why  do 


143  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  III 

you  stand  still  there,  brothers  ?  Do  you  hear  what  I  say 
to  you?  Do  you  understand  what  God  asks  of  you? 
The  synagogue  awaits  the  army  of  the  Lord.  Come! 
[The  men  at  prayer  sway  to  and  fro  more  piously  than 
ever.  Reb  Mayshe  looks  about  in  astonishment.^  I 
behold  pious  Jews, —  eyes  that  will  not  open  during  the 
Eighteen  Benedictions,  lips  that  whisper  so  religiously. 
l^The  men  become  more  absorbed  than  ever  in  their 
prayers.'\  But  have  you  ears  that  hear  God's  call? 
Hearts  that  feel  God's  will?  [With  emphasis.]  Do 
you  hear  what  I  am  saying  to  you,  or  not?  Give  me  a 
token  that  you  hear,  [The  men  sway  to  and  fro,  and 
continue  to  mumble  their  prayers.] 

Yekef  [moves  away  from  Reb  Mayshe  and  begins 
to  pray  the  Eighteen  Benedictions.     He  closes  his  eyes]. 

Minye    [breaks  suddenly  into  hysterical  weeping]. 

Reb  Mayshe.  Brethren,  Jews,  listen  to  me.  Close 
your  mouths  and  open  your  ears.  Open  your  eyes  and 
your  hearts.  See  and  hear  and  feel  that  God  is  calling 
you  now.  His  house  waits  for  you.  [To  a  yellow-faced 
Jew.]  Brother  Jew,  you're  tall  and  broad  and  strong, 
and  you  pray  with  such  fervor.  Come,  show  God  that 
you  serve  Him  truly.  Come,  show  Him  that  you  can 
sacrifice  all  to  His  glorious  name  when  He  asks  it.  Stop 
your  prayers,  I  demand  it!  Come,  I  say.  I'll  stop 
them  for  you.  [Pulls  the  man  away.]  Come,  you  are 
strong. 

The  Yellow  Jew  [attempting  to  free  himself  from 
Reb  Mayshe].  Nu!     Oh!     Ah! 

The  Yellow  Jew's  Wipe  [rushes  forth  from  among 
the  trees,  one  child  in  her  arms  and  two  weeping  tots 
following  her].  Why  have  you  singled  him  out  from 
all  the  rest?  Aren't  there  plenty  of  other  men  here? 
Why   don't  you  take  your  own  son  away?     There  he 


Act  III]  THE  LAST  JEW  1*3 

stands,  too,  praying  away  so  piously.     Never  mind  my 
husband.     He's  got  a  family  to  defend. 

The  Yellow  Jew  [teariiig  himself  axvay  and  casting 
an  angry  look  at  Reb  Mayshe].  Ah!  [Resumes  pray- 
ing.] 

The  Yellow  Jew's  Wife  [retur7is  to  her  place 
among  the  trees].  Did  you  ever  see?  He  drags  men 
away!  God  has  nobody  else  to  fight  His  battles  except 
my  husband, —  a  father  of  three  small  children ! 

Reb  Mayshe    [who  has  looked  about  beseechingly,  of 
a  sudden  raises  his  voice].  Jewish  sons,  Jewish  daugh- 
ters I     Do    you    know    what    martyrdom    means?     Our 
Lord  has  many  peoples,  but  one  alone  has  He  chosen. 
To  that  one  He  entrusted  His  Holy  Law  and  made  it  the 
guardian.     And     therefore     He     said     to     His     people: 
"  Protect   my   holiness   with   the   blood   of   your   hearts, 
with  your  body  and  soul.     Let  nothing  be  more  to  you; 
be  ready  to  sacrifice  all  in  its  defense.     Thus  will  you 
reveal  to  all  the  nations  the  power  of  my  holiness,  and 
will  render  my  name  great  and  sacred.     And  all  peoples 
will  recognize  my  power  and  will  know  that  I  am  the 
one  and  true  God.     This  will  be  your  greatest  and  only 
thanks  for  the  gift  I  have  made  you  and  my  blessing 
will  descend  upon  you.     But  if  you  do  not  guard  it  with 
the  blood  of  your  hearts,  with  your  body  and  soul,  and 
if  you  allow  other  things  to  become  nearer  and  dearer 
to  you,  then  will  the  nations  that  know  me  not  desecrate 
my  holiness  and  insult  my  name.     But  you  alone  will  be 
the  real  desecrators;  you  alone  will  be  my  real  defara- 
ers,  yours  alone  will  be  the  unclean  hands,  the  impure 
heart  and  deeds.     And  I  will  hide  my  face  and  weep  at 
the  ingratitude  of  my  chosen  people,  and  will  curse  it 
forever."     Jewish    sons,    Jewish    daughters!     Not    with 
pious  mumbling  and  closing  of  your  eyes  can  you  thank 


144  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  III 

God  and  please  Him,  and  move  His  heart,  but  only  with 
the  glorification  of  His  name  among  the  peoples  of  the 
Earth.  This  is  such  a  day,  my  children!  Seize  the 
opportunity !  Bethink  you  who  you  are !  Remember 
that  you  are  Jews !  Strengthen  your  hearts  and  come ! 
Holiness  awaits  you.     Jews !     Jews  ! 

[The  Men  continue  their  pious  swaying  and  mum- 
bling.^ 

Reb  Mayshe  [speaks  now  with  an  exhausted  voice']. 
Lord  of  the  universe,  what  now  can  I  say?  What  more 
can  I  add.''  [Looks  around  him  again  with  entreaty  and 
despair.]  Jewish  children,  to-day  I  was  told  that  Juda- 
ism had  departed  from  the  world,  that  there  were  no 
more  pious  Jews,  that  I  was  a  solitary  survivor.  But  I 
laughed  at  the  blasphemers.  "  Israel  is  not  a  widower," 
I  told  them.  There  are  still  among  us  pious  Jews  with- 
out number.  Answer  me,  did  I  speak  the  truth  or  not? 
[Looks  around  for  a  reply.]  What?  Has  no  one  yet 
finished  the  Eighteen  Benedictions?  Are  your  prayers 
endless  ? 

[The  Men  continue  their  pious  swaying  and  mum- 
bling.] 

Reb  Mayshe  [his  voice  becomes  hind,  tender  and 
more  feeble].  Ah,  my  Jews,  my  Jews!  When  I 
left  the  blasphemers  to-day,  I  hoped  that  I  would  find 
the  synagogue  thronged  with  Jews  —  old  and  young, 
men  and  women  —  a  synagogue  crowded  with  the  army 
of  the  Lord.  But  I  found  the  place  empty,  forgotten 
and  forsaken.  I  fell  before  the  Holy  Ark  and  wept 
before  God.  I  asked  Him,  where  was  His  army,  where 
were  His  Jews?  Was  I  then  really  the  only,  the  last 
Jew  ?  And  it  was  as  if  God's  voice  spoke  to  me :  "  Go 
and  assemble  my  host.  You  will  find  it  in  vast  num- 
bers."    And  the  Lord  was  with  me  and  brought  me  in 


Act  III]  THE  LAST  JEW  U5 

safety  to  you,  through  hordes  of  the  enemy.  Do  you 
not  feel  that  God  meant  you?  Can  you  not  see  that  the 
Lord  has  chosen  you  for  His  army,  to  defend  His  house 
and  to  protect  His  sacred  gifts?  .  .  .  You  are  silent? 
You  sway  and  mumble  still?  Give  me  at  least  a  sign 
that  when  you  have  concluded  the  Eighteen  Benedictions 
vou  will  follow  me. 

[The  Men  continue  their  swaying  and  mumbling.] 
Reb  Mayshe  ^now  speaks  in  very  hoarse  tones]. 
Jews !  In  a  few  moments  you  can  win  a  place  in 
Paradise !  Follow  me !  Jews,  who  you  are  and  what 
you  are,  advance  to  sacrifice  your  lives  for  God's  house 
and  for  His  holy  gifts,  and  you  will  have  purchased  your 
happiness  in  the  next  world.  Follow  me,  Jews,  to  mar- 
tyrdom ! 

[The  Men  continue  their  swaying  and  mumbling.] 
Reb  Mayshe  [looks  about  him  in  stupefaction  and 
meets  Leon's  glance.  The  latter,  pale  with  emotion, 
has  been  leaning  against  a  tree;  his  face  betrays  deep 
thought  and  amazement,  as  if  he  were  beholding  a 
vision.  Reb  Mayshe  looks  at  him  with  a  penetrating 
glance].  What  do  my  eyes  behold?  You  are  moved? 
You,  the  sinner  and  the  instigator  of  others'  sins  ?  You, 
the  Jeroboam  son  of  Nebat? 
[Leon  smiles  weakly.] 

Reb  Mayshe  [gases  for  a  while  upon  the  praying 
men].  Brethren,  I  am  waiting  for  you.  [To  Leon, 
regarding  him  keenly.]  Listen  to  a  story  from  the  Tal- 
mud. When  Rome  forbade  Jews  to  study  the  Holy  Law, 
the  learned  preacher  Hanino  Tradinus  paid  no  attention 
to  the  decree  and  continued  to  discuss  the  Holy  Law  in 
public.  So  they  seized  him  and  wrapped  him  in  a  Holy 
Scroll  and  threw  him  upon  a  heap  of  fresh  twigs,  which 
they  lighted.     His  breast  tliey  covered  with  moist  wool, 


146  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  III 

so  that  he  would  roast  longer  at  the  stake.  The  sage 
suffered  it  all,  but  did  not  abjure  the  Torah.  The  exe- 
cutioner beheld  this  and  his  heart  was  moved.  He  told 
the  sage  to  remove  the  wet  wool^  so  that  his  death  might 
come  more  quickly.  The  sage,  however,  answered  that 
such  an  act  would  be  equivalent  to  self-murder.  The 
executioner,  at  this,  was  even  more  moved  by  the  learned 
man's  fortitude.  He  removed  the  wool  from  the  burning 
man's  breast  and  himself  jumped  into  the  flames.  And 
both  were  soon  burned  to  death.  You,  Leon,  have  al- 
ways been  one  of  my  executioners.  Limb  after  limb  you 
slowly  burned  off  me.  Piece  by  piece,  drop  by  drop  you 
have  robbed  me  of  my  life.  And  now,  now  you  are 
moved  by  my  plight  and  look  upon  me  with  kindly  eyes. 
Are  you,  perhaps,  thinking  of  jumping  into  the  flames 
with  me? 

Leon  [hoarselyl.  No,  grandpa.  I  must  remain  your 
executioner, —  the  executioner  of  your  world-philosophy, 
of  your  faith,  of  your  Holy  Law,  of  your  God.  But  I 
marvel  at  you, —  the  man  in  you,  the  great  beauty  that 
dwells  in  you,  which  I  have  never  noticed  till  now, — 
the  remarkable  power  that  I  realize  now  for  the  first 
time.  As  a  tribute  to  you  yourself  I  could  fall  on  my 
knees  and  kiss  the  hem  of  your  cloak.  For  you  your- 
self, for  the  greatest  of  Jews,  for  the  solitary  and 
last  .  .  . 

Reb  Mayshe.  Enough,  enough !  I  want  to  hear  no 
more.  You  are  a  blasphemer,  a  blasphemer!  [To  the 
men.]  Did  you  hear  his  words.'' —  What!  You  are 
still  in  silent  prayer  }  —  God  in  Heaven,  once  again  have 
I  strayed.  I  have  blundered  upon  a  den  of  cowardly 
wretches,  upon  a  lair  of  hypocrites  and  robbers  of  the 
Lord.  God  of  Abraham,  surely  I  am  not  a  solitary  sur- 
vivor.''    Surely  I  am  not  the  last  Jew?     I  will  yet  dis- 


Act  III]  THE  LAST  JEW  U1 

cover  your  army  !  I  will  yet  assemble  defenders  of  your 
house  and  your  holy  gifts.  Lead  me,  lead  me  upon  the 
right  path !  Guide  me  to  the  right  streets,  show  me  the 
right  houses !  Dear  God,  I  rely  upon  you !  Lead  me, 
lead  me  upon  the  right  road!  [Hastens  away  over  the 
path.]  Jews,  where  are  you?  Jews!  God's  house  is 
in  danger !  Jews  !  Vandals  want  to  desecrate  our  Holy 
Scroll!  Where  are  you?  ^Vhere  are  you?  [He  dis- 
appears, and  his  voice  is  lost  in  the  distance.] 

MiNYE  [she  has  been  weeping  all  this  time.  Cries 
out].  Oh,  we  have  seen  him  for  the  last  time!  For  the 
last  time  we  have  seen  him !  [The  men  still  sway  and 
mumble.] 

A  Woman.  A  holy  Jew. 

The  Yellow  Jew's  Wife.  It's  easy  enough  for  him. 
He's  lived  his  life.  If  he  were  a  young  man  and  the 
father  of  three  little  children,  I'm  not  so  sure  whether 
he'd  be  such  a  saint. 

[A  murmuring  from  The  Women:  "That's  so."  .  .  , 
"  She's  right."  ..."  No,  no."  ..."  Ah,  well."  .  .  . 
"  Ah !  "  .  .  .  The  Men  at  prayer  end  the  Eighteen 
Benedictions  and  begin  to  pray  aloud.  They  do  not 
look  at  one  another.  There  is  an  atmosphere  of  em- 
barrassment. Minye's  sobbing  is  heard.  Leon,  from 
his  place  by  the  tree,  regards  the  crowd  pensively.] 

The  Yellow  Jew.  The  gall  of  a  man  to  grab  me  just 
when  I  was  in  the  middle  of  the  Eighteen  Benedictions. 
Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  pious  Jew  doing  a  thing  like  that? 
[There  is  no  reply.  The  atmosphere  of  embarrassment 
still  weighs  heavily  upon  all.] 

Leon.  But  you're  througli  with  the  Benedictions  now. 
You  heard  his  summons  and  you  know  where  the  syna- 
gogue is  situated, —  then  why  are  you  still  standing  here? 
Wliy  don't  you  run  to  the  synagogue? 


148  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  III 

First  Jew.   Behold  !     A  new  saint  has  arisen  ! 

Second  Jew.  And  when  we  needed  him  for  a  minyan 
he  was  deaf  to  our  request! 

Third  Jew.  And  did  you  hear  his  parable.^  That  he 
was  the  executioner  of  God  and  of  the  Torah.^     Hey? 

Leon.  Don't  disguise  your  cowardice  under  the  cloak 
of  piety.  Neither  do  I  call  upon  you,  nor  do  I  tell  you 
what  you  should  do.  But  you  are  pious  Jews,  are  you 
not.^  And  the  synagogue  is  your  synagogue,  and  the  holy 
scrolls  are  your  sacred  possessions.  Look  into  your 
hearts;  are  you  doing  right.''  Do  you  not  feel  guilty, — 
that  you  are  grievous  sinners  against  your  God.'' 

Fourth  Jew.  Where  were  we  at  in  the  Psalms.'' 
\^The  men  sit  down,  ready  to  begin  the  recital  of  the 
Psalms.^ 

Leon.  Jews,  you'll  not  drown  out  the  voice  of  your 
conscience  with  your  Psalm-saying.  I  tell  you  before- 
hand, the  more  you  recite,  the  deeper  will  you  feel  your 
guilt. 

Fifth  Jew  [beginning  Psalm  Eighty -four'\.  "To  the 
chief  Musician,  upon  Gittith.  A  Psalm  for  the  sons  of 
Korah." 

Leon.  Jews,  listen  to  me. 

[The  Men  join  the  Psalm  reader  in  chorus.^  "  How 
amiable  are  thy  tabernacles,  O  Lord  of  hosts." 

Leon  [raises  his  voice  above  the  sound  of  the  of/jers]. 
Because  my  grandfather  called  you  and  you  refused  to 
go, —  because  the  synagogue  will  be  destroyed  and  the 
holy  scrolls  sullied,  you  will  be  the  unhappiest  of  men. 
Never  will  you  be  able  to  find  rest,  never  will  you  be 
able  to  find  peace  between  you  and  your  God.  You 
will  go  about,  your  forehead  branded  with  the  mark  of 
grievous  sinners. 

The  Yellow  Jew.  Here's  a  new  sermonizer  for  you! 


Act  III]  THE  LAST  JEW  149 

Yekef  [to  Leon].  What  business  is  this  of  yours? 
Nobody's  asking  you  what  to  do ! 

Leon.  Gentlemen,  hear  me  out.     A  few  moments  only. 

The  Men.  "  For  a  day  in  thy  courts  is  better  than  a 
thousand  .   .   ."      [The  voices  become  weaker.] 

First  Jew.  It's  a  sin  to  interrupt  our  service  just  for 
him. 

Leon.  For  a  moment  only.  [The  Men  continue  to 
recite  the  Psalm  in  a  low  voice,  and  Leon  begins  to  talk 
somewhat  excitedly.]  Gentlemen,  you  know  very  well 
that  there  are  very  few  really  pious  Jews  in  the  world, 
and  when  such  a  one  dies,  it  must  be  in  your  eyes  a  great 
loss  to  all  Israel.  Jews,  just  now  there  went  from  you 
to  his  death  one  of  the  most  pious  of  Jews, —  in  my  opin- 
ion the  only  and  last  true  Jew.  If  you  permit  him  to  die 
your  Judaism  will  suffer  an  irreparable  loss.  Do  your 
duty  to  Judaism.   .  .  . 

The  Yellow  Jew's  Wife.  Listen  to  him,  will  you! 
Prating  of  duty !  We  have  enough  duties,  praised  be 
God! 

Tumo  Jew.  Hear  the  unbeliever !  "  Your  "  every- 
thing! "Your!"  "Your"  Judaism.  .  .  .  "Your" 
God.  .  .  .  "Your."  .  ,  .  Hey? 

The  Yellow  Jew.  It's  his  grandfather,  isn't  it? 
Then  why  shouldn't  he  go  and  defend  him? 

Leon.  I  will.  But  to  you  he  should  be  even  more  than 
a  grandfather ! 

Fifth  Jew.  Ah!  What's  the  use?  All  nonsense. 
Let's  resume  our  Psalms.      [They  resume  their  reading.] 

Leon  [for  a  while  regarding  the  group  with  scorn  and 
disgust].  And  suppose  I  leave  the  woods  and  set  the 
rioters  upon  you?  [The  crowd,  thunderstruck,  gapes  at 
him  with  distended  eyes.  Soon,  however,  there  is  a  com- 
motion, and  the  men  jump  to  their  feet.] 


150  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  III 

Yekef.  What!     What!     What's  that  you  said? 

First  Jew.  You  blackguard !     You  infidel ! 

Second  Jew.  What  spiteful  notions  can  occur  to  a 
renegade ! 

The  Yellow  Jew.  I'll  strike  you  dead  on  the  spot, 
you  pesthole  of  wickedness  ! 

Fourth  Jew.  You  won't  live  to  get  out  of  the  woods ! 

Various  Women  [clasp  their  terrified,  crying  children, 
wring  their  hands  and  cwr^e].  Oh!  May  a  plague  enter 
all  his  bones  !  —  Oh  !  May  the  cholera  seize  him  !  — 
May  his  legs  break  beneath  him !  —  May  he  split  his 
head!  [The  crowd  surges  toward  Leon,  noisily  and 
menacingly.  Minye  arises  from  her  place  and  steps  to- 
zvard  him,  as  if  to  defend  him.  Leon  speaks  with  all  his 
strength.^  Order!  [The  men  halt  and  Leon  speaks 
more  calmly.']  I  have  a  revolver  here.  Whoever  raises 
his  hand  against  me  is  a  dead  man!  [Turns  away  in 
disgust.]  Go  back  to  your  prayers.  I'll  not  send  any- 
body here  after  you.  [The  men  stand  for  a  moment,  eye- 
ing Leon  angrily,  then  turn  back  to  their  Psalms.] 

A  Voice.  Such  words  a  wicked  man  can  utter! 
[Minye  si7iks  helplessly  hack  to  her  place.] 

Leon  [lifting  his  hat  from  the  ground].  I'm  going, 
mother!  Good-by.  [The  men  resume  their  Psalm- 
chanting.] 

Minye  [in  terror].  You're  going?  You're  really 
going  ? 

Leon.  I  must  help  grandpa,  mother.  Be  brave. 
Good-by. 

Minye  [resisting  a  hysterical  outburst].  Go,  my  son. 
—  I  —  will  —  be  brave.  I'll  not  cry  any  more. —  No, 
I'll  not  cry.  [Arises  with  great  effort.]  Go,  my  son. 
But  first  let  me  kiss  you  ...  for  all  the  long  years. 
[Bursts   into   hysterical   weeping   and  falls  against   his 


Act  III]  THE  LAST  JEW  151 

bosom.l  Oh,  I'll  never  see  you  again!  They  will  kill 
you !     Oh  !  —     All  three  in  one  day ! 

Leon  [moved].  Be  calm,  mother  dear.  You  said  you 
would  be  brave.  And  that  you  wouldn't  cry.  Be  calm. 
We'll  see  each  other  again.  Let  me  be  off.  I  may  be 
too  late. 

MiNYE  [strengthening  herself].  Go,  my  son.  Go. 
And  may  God  .  .  .  my  God  will  .  .  . 

Leon  [kisses  her].  Well, —  Good-by.  [Rushes 
away.] 

MiNYE.  Leon !  One  moment.  .  .  .  Leon,  for  my  sake. 
.  .  .  Leon,  say  good-by  to  your  father. 

Leon  [calls  back  as  he  hastens  away].  Good-by, 
father!      [Disappears  among  the  trees.] 

MiNYE  [calling  after  him].  Leon,  one  thing  more.  .  .  . 
Leon,  only  a  moment.  .  .  .  Leon,  be  sure  to  .  .  .  Leon, 
be  sure  to  pray  .  .  .  The  death-prayer,  "  Hear,  O 
Israel!" 


ACT  IV 


SCENE    ONE 


A  square  before  the  synagogue.  To  the  right,  the  high 
entrance  to  the  house  of  worship;  to  the  left,  and  in 
the  background,  houses.  The  left  row  of  dwellings 
is  intersected,  in  the  rear,  by  a  lane  that  leads  to  the 
synagogue;  to  the  right,  in  front  of  the  synagogue, 
another  lane. —  The  square  is  absolutely  deserted; 
the  house-gates,  doors  and  shutters  are  closed. 
From  afar  is  heard  the  sound  of  many  voices,  coming 
gradually  nearer. 

Reb  Mayshe  [his  cry  of  relief  is  heard  from  the  little 
street  in  the  right  foreground].  The  synagogue  is  still 
safe!  The  synagogue  is  safe!  [Comes  rushing  in.  His 
cloak  is  torn;  on  his  left  temple  there  is  blood,  and  his 
heard  has  been  plucked  in  places.  Runs  into  the  syna- 
gogue and  is  soon  out  again.'\  Thanks  be  to  you,  dear 
God!  You  have  shielded  your  house.  .  .  .  But  what 
have  I  done  for  it?  Alone  I  departed  from  it,  and  alone 
I  return.  .  .  .  Dear  God!  Where  is  your  army.^  The 
enemy  is  near,  and  your  army  has  not  yet  appeared. — 
Or  will  you  defend  your  house  unaided?  Will  you  hurl 
down  upon  the  foe  your  lightning  and  your  thunderbolts  ? 
Dear  God,  I  pray  you,  I  do  not  want  your  thunder;  send 
not  your  lightning.  Send  me  your  host;  I  want  your 
Jews,  dear  God !     I  want  your  Jews  to  stand  up  for  your 

house  and  your  holy  gifts, —  to  show  that  you  still  live 

152 


Act  IV]  THE  LAST  JEW  153 

within  them, —  that  they  serve  you  with  love  and  with 
all  their  hearts  and  that  they  still  are  ready  to  sacrifice 
themselves  for  you.  It  is  they  that  I  want.  [He  pros- 
trates himself  upon  the  steps  that  lead  to  the  synagogue.] 
I  know  that  you  alone.  Almighty  God,  can  save  the 
synagogue !  I  know  that  you  need  none  to  take  your 
part.  But  with  tears  and  with  entreaty  I  implore  you, 
send  me  your  Jews.  Show  me  where  they  are !  —  Or 
take  me  back  to  you.  I  no  longer  care  to  live !  I  no 
longer  care  to  live!  [Begins  to  sob  but  soon  restrains 
himself.  He  sits  up,  and  speaks  in  a  feeble,  tear- 
ful voice.]  Jews!  Jews!  Where  are  you.f*  [Arises, 
steps  out  into  the  middle  of  the  square,  looks  about,  and 
calls,  in  a  voice  choked  with  tears.]  Jews !  God's 
house  is  in  danger !  Jews  !  God's  house  is  in  danger ! 
Assemble,  Jews!  Assemble,  army  of  the  Lord!  Crawl 
forth  from  your  hiding-places.  Crawl  out  of  your  holes, 
your  cellars  and  your  attics.  Arise,  Jews,  to  your  holy 
task!  [Walks  over  to  the  house  in  the  left  foreground, 
dries  his  eyes  with  his  wide  sleeve,  knocks  at  the  door, 
and  cries  out,  somewhat  more  firmly.]  Into  the  syna- 
gogue, Jews  !  Into  the  synagogue  !  Reb  Sholom  Yan- 
kev,  the  house  of  worship  is  alone.  Come  out,  Reb 
Sholom  Yankev!  It's  I,  Mayshe,  the  preacher.  The 
enemy  is  near,  and  the  synagogue  is  alone.  But  we 
must  not  leave  it  undefended,  Reb  Sholom  Yankev. 
I  surely  need  not  tell  that  to  you,  for  you  are 
a  pious  Jew. —  No  voice,  no  reply. —  [Knocks 
louder.]  Have  you  died  of  fright  in  there.''  [Raps 
against  the  shutters.]  Do  you  hear  me,  Jewish 
children?  The  synagogue  is  deserted,  God's  house 
is  in  danger!  [From  the  lane  at  the  left  comes  the 
sound  of  some  one  running  toxvards  the  square.  Reb 
Mayshe  hastens  to  the  steps  of  the  synagogue  and  looks 


154  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  IV 

in  the  direction  of  the  footstepsJ]  A  Jew,  a  Jew  run- 
ning .  .  .  and  he's  hastening  hither.  .  .  .  God,  dear 
God!  .  .  .  [A  Jew  of  some  thirty-odd  years,  with  a  long 
beard  and  wearing  a  felt  hat,  comes  running  in  towards 
the  synagogue.  When  he  beholds  Reb  Mayshe  he  takes 
fright  and  recoils;  soon  recognizing  the  preacher,  how- 
ever, he  continues  to  run,  and  rushes  up  the  steps  into  the 
synagogue.  Reb  Mayshe's  voice  reveals  gratified  de- 
light.] Heavenly  Father!  One  soldier  has  already  ar- 
rived.    Thanks,  O  Lord.     And  now,  one  after  the  other. 

The  Jew  in  the  Soft  Hat  [coming  back  to  the  door 
of  the  synagogue].     The  synagogue  is  empty! 

Reb  Mayshe.  Yes,  my  child.  The  synagogue  is 
empty.     God's  army  has  not  yet  been  mobilized. 

The  Jew  [with  a  worried  expression].  Then  of  what 
use  is  the  synagogue  to  me?  I  thought  that  I'd  surely 
find  a  big  crowd  in  the  synagogue,  and  that  somehow  or 
other,  in  a  crowd  one's  fear  wouldn't  be  so  great. 

Reb  Mayshe  [with  fright].  You  were  concerned  with 
yourself,  then,  and  not  with  the  synagogue? 

The  Jew  [coming  down  the  steps,  perplexed].  And 
where  can  I  hide  now?  [Reb  Mayshe  buries  his  face  in 
his  left  arm.]  Advise  a  man,  Reb  Mayshe.  Where  can 
I  hide  now? 

Reb  Mayshe.  Away  from  me!  Crawl  under  the 
synagogue. —  There  you  will  find  some  other  pigs, 
too. 

The  Jew  [regards  Reb  Mayshe  with  astonishment, 
then  looks  under  the  synagogue.  As  if  to  himself]. 
What  do  you  think?  It's  really  a  splendid  place. 
[Disappears  under  the  steps.] 

Reb  Mayshe.  Dear  God,  once  more  you  have  deceived 
me;  once  more  roused  false  hopes  in  my  bosom.  Lord  of 
the  universe,  if  it  pleases  you  to  toy  with  me,  then  play 


Act  IV]  THE  LAST  JEW  155 

whatever  prank  you  please.  But  I  pray  you,  let  this 
jest  soon  come  to  an  end.  If  you  have  appointed  me 
mobilizer  of  your  army,  then  let  me  assemble  it  at  once. 
If  not  now,  when  then.''  The  enemy  is  fast  approaching; 
his  shouting,  excited  by  brandy  and  the  taste  of  Jewish 
blood,  comes  nearer  and  nearer.  Come  to  my  aid.  Al- 
mighty Father !  Come  to  my  aid !  [Drying  his  tears 
with  his  sleeve-l  Jews!  Into  the  synagogue!  The 
synagogue  is  in  danger !  Vandals  want  to  desecrate  our 
Holy  Scroll !  Jews !  Arise  to  your  holy  task !  [Be- 
gins to  knock  at  the  door  of  the  second  house  to  the  left.] 
Jewish  children !  Come  to  the  aid  of  God's  house ! 
Help  !  Help !  The  synagogue  calls  to  you  !  [From  the 
little  street  at  the  right  comes  the  sound  of  footsteps. 
Reb  Mayshe  stops  his  knocking  at  the  door  and  listens. 

A  Poor  Old  Jewish  Woman  [approaches  the  steps 
of  the  synagogue,  beholds  Reb  Mayshe,  for  a  while 
stands  still,  shakes  her  head  and  utters  a  strange  cry  of 
grief.     She  mounts  the  steps]. 

Reb  Mayshe  [speaks  with  a  frightened  voice^.  It's 
the  dumb,  half-crazy  beggar-woman!  [The  Beggar- 
woman  disappears  inside  the  synagogue.  Reb  May- 
she,  for  a  few  moments,  looks  toward  the  entrance  to 
the  synagogue  with  gaping  eyes,  as  if  waiting  for  some- 
thing. His  voice  rises  to  an  excited  pitch.]  Lord 
God  of  Abraham,  you  have  carried  your  jest  too 
far !  Of  all  your  people  you  have  sent  to  me  only  the 
dumb,  half-crazy  beggar-woman.  This  is  too  much, — 
too  much !  [Falls  against  the  banister  of  the  stairs,  his 
face  buried  in  his  left  arm.  Soon  he  arises,  in  a  pensive, 
distraught  mood.]  Have  you  sent  a  sign  to  me?  How 
shall  I  interpret  it?  What  do  you  mean  by  it?  Dear 
God,  can  you  not  see  that  I  am  too  small  to  understand 
you?      [From  the  left  background  comes   the  sound  of 


156  THE  LAST  JEW,  [Act  IV 

footsteps.  Reb  Mayshe  raises  his  glance  and  cries  out 
with  a  note  of  hope  in  his  voice.]  A  Jew  comes  running 
hither!  Are  you  sending  him  to  me?  Was  the  other 
but  a  beginning?  [A  Jew  of  some  thirty  years,  wearing 
a  cap  and  having  a  small  beard,  appears  at  the  rear  and 
is  about  to  run  through  the  little  street  there.^ 

Reb  Mayshe  [blocking  his  path].  Where  are  you  run- 
ning to,  Mr.  Jew  ?     The  synagogue  is  right  here. 

The  Jew  with  the  Cap  [recoils,  begins  to  tremble  all 
over,  and  retreats  slowly.  His  face  wears  the  expres- 
sion of  a  madman].  Oh!  Oh!  Don't  kill  me!  Oh! 
Oh !  Dear  master,  my  dear  master !  Oh !  Oh !  Don't 
kill  me!  [Falls  upon  his  knees].  I  am  a  poor  man,  a 
poor,  wretched  Jew.  What, —  what  do  you  want  of  me  ? 
Oh!  Oh!  Let  me  live!  My  master,  my  dear,  dear 
master,  don't  kill  me.     I  have  nothing,  nothing,  nothing ! 

Reb  Mayshe.  Come  to  your  senses,  my  dear  fellow. 
Don't  you  see  who's  standing  before  you?  It's  I,  Reb 
Mayshe  the  preacher. 

The  Jew  [still  retreating].  Oh!  Oh!  Don't  kill 
me !  Don't  kill  me !  I  haven't  anything.  .  .  .  My  dear 
master,  I've  got  nothing,  nothing.  .  .  .  Master,  master. 
...  Oh  !  Oh  !  Oh  !  [He  turns  suddenly  around  and 
rushes  off  with  a  wild  shrieking.] 

Reb  Mayshe.  He's  gone  mad  .  .  .  gone  mad  because 
of  me.  My  God,  why  have  you  done  this?  God  in 
Heaven,  how  am  I  to  interpret  this?  .  .  .  Are  you  test- 
ing me  ?  Are  you  trying  to  discover  whether  such  a  thing 
will  deter  me  from  fulfilling  your  mission?  Lord  of  the 
Universe,  I  swear  to  you  that  you  have  done  this  in  vain ! 
Nothing  shall  deter  me !  In  vain  have  you  failed  to  take 
pity  upon  your  creature.  Nothing  shall  hold  me  back! 
Masterful  and  gracious  Lord,  why  did  you  do  this? 
Why  ?      [Stands  for  a  moment  with  eyes  raised  to  heaven; 


Act  IV]  THE  LAST  JEW  157 

soon  he  covers  his  eyes  with  his  left  arm,  lowering  his  arm 
immediately.'\  You  send  me  riddle  upon  riddle.  No. 
I  will  not  attempt  to  fathom  you.  Your  will  is  great, 
your  thoughts  are  inscrutable.  I  will  do  my  duty. 
[Turns  to  the  houses  and  begins  to  knock  at  the  doors.] 
Quickly,  Jews !  The  synagogue  waits  for  you.  It  is  de- 
serted, and  cries  for  defenders.  Sons  of  Israel,  hear  you 
not  the  voice  of  God?  He  is  calling  you.  Jews  !  God's 
house  is  in  danger !  Come  forth  from  your  holes  !  Into 
the  synagogue!  [From  the  right  background  appears  a 
young  man  arm  in  arm  with  a  girl.] 

The  Young  Man.  Don't  be  afraid.  Just  walk  a  little 
faster. 

The  Girl.  Yes,  Lord  of  the  universe.  Anything,  any- 
thing .  .  .  let  them  do  anything,  except  .... 

Reb  Mayshe  [coming  before  them].  Jewish  children, 
with  the  Lord  of  the  universe  upon  your  lips,  here  is  the 
house  of  the  Lord  of  the  universe.     Come  and  protect  it. 

The  Young  Man  [angrily].  You're  a  big  fool,  Mr. 
Preacher.  In  perilous  times  like  these  you've  no  busi- 
ness standing  here  on  the  street  and  frightening  passers 
by.      [He  is  about  to  walk  off  with  the  girl.] 

Reb  Mayshe.  My  son,  I  pardon  the  insult  to  me.  I 
am  here  because  I  must  be  here, —  because  God  has  sent 
me  hither.  The  synagogue  stands  alone  and  it  must  be 
defended.  And  I  am  assembling  God's  army  for  that 
purpose.  Go  in,  Jewish  children,  enter  to  defend  the 
honor  of  the  Lord  and  of  his  Holy  Scroll. 

The  Young  Man.  I  don't  know  what  it  is  more  im- 
portant to  protect:  the  honor  of  the  Holy  Scroll  or  that 
of  a  Jewish  daughter.  I'd  rather  defend  the  honor  of  a 
Jewish  maiden. —  Come,  Rosie,  quickly.  We  are  al- 
ready near.  [The  Young  Man  and  the  Girl  make  their 
way  quickly  to  the  left.] 


158  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  IV 

The  Girl.  Oh !  Lord  of  the  universe !  Let  them  do 
anything,  anything.  .  .  .  Let  them  break  my  bones,  let 
them  twist  my  arms,  let  them  kill  me, —  but  not  that,  not 
that.  .  .  . 

Reb  Mayshe  [raises  his  eyes  to  heaven,  spreads  out 
his  arms,  and  for  a  moment  is  lost  in  thought].  What  do 
you  say,  great  Father?  Which  is  more  precious  in  your 
eyes?  [With  a  start.]  And  must  I  ask  such  a  question? 
Children !  Wait  a  while !  The  Holy  Scroll  is  the  more 
precious, —  the  honor  of  the  Lord  is  more  worthy !  Into 
the  synagogue!  [Runs  a  few  steps  after  the  couple.] 
They  do  not  hear  me.  O  God,  I  am  a  worthless  leader. 
Perhaps  the  right  words  do  not  come  to  me.  God,  you 
are  my  witness,  I  am  doing  my  best.  You  can  see  that 
my  words,  however  poor  they  be,  come  from  the  depths 
of  my  heart.  You  can  see  into  my  heart,  great  Seer, 
you  can  see!  Send  me  new  words,  that  I  may  move 
their  hearts !  Lord,  come  to  my  aid !  [He  goes  to  the 
left  background  and  knocks  at  the  doors  of  the  houses 
there.]  Sons  of  Israel,  dear,  faithful  Jewish  children ! 
God's  house,  the  sacred  synagogue  with  its  holy  scrolls 
is  in  dire  necessity  and  has  sore  need  of  you,  Jewish 
children.  It  is  a  sin  to  hide  and  leave  the  Lord's  house 
undefended. —  The  house  in  which  you  spoke  to  God, 
whence  you  sent  to  Him  your  prayers  and  entreaties, 
you  must  not  leave  alone.  Sweet,  loving,  faithful  Jewish 
children,  if  you  wish  the  Lord  to  hear  your  voice,  then 
hear  now  His.  Into  the  synagogue,  children!  [Sud- 
denly he  breaks  into  a  fearful,  penetrating  wailing.] 
Oh!  0-oh!  0-oh !  [Rushes  forward,  his  hands  to  his 
head.]  Woe  to  my  eyes,  what  they  have  seen!  An  idol 
in  a  Jewish  window  !  A  cross  painted  on  a  Jewish  door  I 
Oh  !  Oh !  God !  Take  me  to  you  !  Take  me  back  to 
you !     Or  I'll  commit  something  desperate  against  my- 


Act  IV]  THE  LAST  JEW  159 

self!  I'll  smash  my  head  against  the  walls  of  your 
house  !  Righteous  Judge,  take  me  back  to  you  !  Let  the 
walls  of  your  synagogue  crumble  about  my  head.  We 
both  are  superfluous  here;  we  are  both  no  longer  needed. 
[Shaking  the  banister  of  the  stairs  xcildly.']  Woe,  what 
I  have  looked  upon!  Woe,  what  I  have  seen!  God, 
take  me  back  to  you!  [Prostrates  himself  upon  the 
steps. "[  Lord  of  the  universe,  what  else  now?  What 
further?  [Jumps  up. '\  Oh!  I  know!  !Mattathias  son 
of  Johanan  the  High  Priest  first  took  vengeance  upon 
the  wicked  man  who  was  about  to  sacrifice  a  pig  to  the 
strange  idol,  and  then  he  became  the  gatherer  of  the 
Lord's  army.  I  will  do  likewise !  Yes,  I  will  do  like- 
wise !  [Begins  to  pick  up  stones  from  the  street  and 
runs  to  the  houses  in  the  left  background.  He  begins  to 
break  the  raindozvs.]      Take  that,  you  sinners  !     And  that, 

—  traitors  to  Israel !  May  the  most  wretched  of  deaths 
be  yours,  renegades!  To  me  this  instant!  I'm  waiting 
for  you!  With  my  own  hand  I'll  batter  your  brains! 
Vile  creatures !  You've  put  an  idol  in  your  window  and 
hidden  yourselves !  But  my  stones  will  strike  you  none 
the  less,  and  God's  thunder  will  reach  you,  and  destruc- 
tion will  overtake  you ! 

-  Voices  [from  the  right  background].  Quickly! 
Quickly  !  They're  smashing  windows  over  there  !  [En- 
ter Reuben  with  a  band  of  young  men.] 

Reb  Mayshe  [triumphantly].  I  have  but  just  avenged 
God,  and  already  His  army  approaches.  [He  comes  over 
to  Reuben  and  the  group  of  young  men.  Astonished.] 
What!  Is  it  Reuben?  No,  this  is  not  God's  army. 
Yet,  perhaps  —  perhaps  ? 

Reuben.  Grandpa,  who  was  breaking  those  windows 
over  there? 

Reb   Mayshe    [softly].  I  did  that,  my  child.     They 


160  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  IV 

placed  an  idol  there  in  the  window,  and  painted  a  cross 
upon  the  door. 

Reuben  [to  his  men].  Well,  let's  be  on  our  way. 
[Points  to  the  right  foreground,  where  the  voices  have 
become  louder  and  nearer.  The  band  of  young  men  rush 
toivard   the   right.] 

Reb  Mayshe.  Halt,  Jewish  children!  I'll  keep  you 
but  a  moment.  [They  come  to  a  halt,  unwillingly. 
Some  of  them  rush  forth  as  soon  as  Reb  Mayshe  begins 
to  speak.]  Do  you  remember,  when  you  were  yet  little 
school-boys,  and  some  misfortune  would  befall  you  or 
your  family,  how  you  would  come  to  the  synagogue  and 
stand  in  some  corner,  pouring  out  your  little  hearts  to 
God?  And  then  your  hearts  would  become  so  light? 
Do  you  remember,  Jewish  children?  And  now,  behold! 
That  same  synagogue  is  in  dire  need.  It  is  forsaken  and 
forgotten  by  all.  There  is  no  one  to  take  its  part. 
[The  group  of  men  show  signs  of  leaving.]  Patience, 
children,  and  let  me  finish.  I  know  that  long  ago  you 
broke  with  the  synagogue,  but  are  you  not  willing  to 
thank  it  now  for  the  favors  it  showed  you  in  your  child- 
hood?    Will  you  not  now  protect  it  ? 

One  of  the  Group.  What  do  you  call  this  ?     Sermon- 
izing?     [The  group  of  men  rushes  forth.] 

Reuben  [lingering].  Grandpa,  duty  and  necessity  call 
us  thither. 

Reb  Mayshe.  Necessity  calls  you  thither? 

Reuben.  We  must  be  where  human  lives  are  in  danger, 

—  where  the  few  possessions  of  our  poor  people  are  being 

plundered  and  destroyed.     Our  duty  is  to  disperse  the 

rioters.     But  the  open  street  is  really  no  place  for  you. 

Reb  Mayshe.  Go  your  way ! 

Reuben  [after  looking  at  him  a  moment] .  Let  it  be  so, 
then.      [Rushes  off.] 


Act  IV]  THE  LAST  JEW  161 

Reb  Mayshe.  Necessity  calls  him  thither!  No! 
That  is  not  your  army,  O  Lord.  I  knew  it  at  once. 
They  have  forgotten  you  entirely.  They  have  made  hu- 
manity—  your  creation  —  their  God  and  they  serve  it. 
As  for  you,  they  have  dethroned  you  entirely.  ...  But 
where  is  your  army?  Wliere,  dear  God?  [Looks  about 
as  if  he  were  seeking  people.  From  the  right  comes  {he 
sound  of  whistled  signals.  From  the  left  background  is 
heard  the  patter  of  many  feet.  Reb  Mayshe  moves  to- 
ward the  synagogue,  then  stops  and  cries  out.]  This 
way!  Come  this  way,  Jewish  children!  This  is  the 
right  place!  [Lipman  comes  running  in  with  a  band  of 
young  men.] 

Lipman.  What's  the  trouble,  grandpa?  Has  it  begun 
here  already  ? 

Reb  Mayshe.  No,  Lipman.  Nothing's  been  begun 
here.  In  this  place  something  must  be  ended;  it  is  here 
that  the  last  battle  must  be  fought.  [The  whistled  sig- 
nals at  the  right  sound  louder.  The  young  men  rush  in 
that  direction.  Reb  Mayshe  seizes  Lipman  and  detains 
him.]  Lipman,  if  all  those  young  men  belong  to  your 
band,  then  call  them  back. 

Lipman.  What  sort  of  whim  do  you  call  this?  Don't 
you  hear  the  signals  and  the  voices  shouting? 

Reb  Mayshe.  I  hear  them,  I  hear  them  well.  But  I 
hear  another  voice,  too,  which  you  have  not  yet  heard. 
I  hear  the  voice  of  God.  Call  them  back,  I  tell  you. 
See,  here  stands  God's  house,  deserted.  Will  you  young 
men  not  protect  it?  You  are  Jewish  patriots,  are  you 
not?     Does  not  the  Jewish  God  speak  somewhere  within 

you? 

Lipman  [rvith  heat].  They're  shedding  Jewish  blood 
over  there  while  we  talk!  They're  destroying  Jewish 
property ! 


163  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  IV 

Reb  Mayshe.  Almost  the  very  words  that  Reuben 
spoke  to  me,  only  you  use  the  word  "  Jewish  "  where 
he  used  the  term  "  human."  But  I  tell  you  to  call  back 
your  people.  My  dear  child,  here  stands  the  holy  pillar 
that  has  supported  the  Jewish  people  throughout  its 
whole  existence.  Support  and  defend  that  pillar !  If  it 
falls,  the  whole  Jewish  folk  falls  with  it! 

LiPMAN.  Is  this  a  time  for  me  to  begin  a  philosophic 
discussion  with  you?  The  Jewish  folk  will  continue  to 
exist  without  your  pillar.      [About  to  go.] 

Reb  Mayshe.  A  moment  more.  In  the  olden  times, 
when  an  enemy  oppressed  the  Jews,  all  the  enemy  needed 
to  do  was  to  lay  foul  hands  upon  the  Jewish  faith,  or  upon 
its  sacred  Torah,  and  the  Jews  arose  like  a  single  man, 
joined  forces  and  fought  with  the  feeling  that  they  were  a 
united  people.     What  can  now  bring  you  all  together  ? 

Lipman.  The  will  to  be  a  people. 

Reb  Mayshe.  Without  God.''  Without  the  Holy  Law? 
Call  back  your  men. 

Lipman.  Folly!  [Rushes  off.  As  he  reaches  the  cor- 
ner of  the  little  street  in  the  foreground  he  stops.]  And 
what  will  become  of  you? 

Reb  Mayshe  [sobbing].  Away  from  my  sight! 

Lipman.  Hm !  [Disappears. —  The  noise  and  the 
shouting  comes  very  near.] 

Reb  Mayshe  [exhausted,  drags  himself  to  the  steps, 
where  for  a  while  he  stands,  leaning  against  the  banister. 
He  sinks  slowly  upon  a  step,  lost  in  thought].  My  mis- 
sion is  at  an  end.  The  enemy  is  near ;  it  is  already  upon 
the  synagogue.  I  can  no  longer  leave  the  Lord's  house. 
And  where  should  I  go,  anyway?  To  whom  shall  I  turn? 
[Looks  about.]  Nobody  comes.  Nobody's  about.  Dear 
God,  am  I  then  really  a  solitary  survivor,  an  only  and  a 
last  Jew  ?     Has  your  army  really  deserted,  and  do  there 


Act  IV]  THE  LAST  JEW  163 

remain  to  you  only  the  dumb  and  the  mad?  [He  is 
again  lost  in  thought;  he  looks  about  once  more  and 
speaks  in  a  feeble  voice.'\  Nobody  comes.  Nobody's 
about. —  Reb  Mayshe  the  preacher,  are  you  still  alive? 
Reb  Mayshe  the  preacher,  what  does  God  want  of  you 
now?  Your  time  has  departed,  your  day  draws  to  a 
close.  See,  the  sun  is  setting.  It  is  your  sun  that  sets, 
—  yours  and  your  God's.  [With  a  start.'\  Have  I  not 
sinned  just  now  with  such  speech?  What  have  I  said! 
What  have  I  said !  Good  God,  what  did  I  say  just  then  ! 
Can  your  sun  set?  Can  your  time  depart?  Eternal 
God,  dear  God,  you  will  yet  work  your  miracles !  Mas- 
terful and  gracious  Lord,  if  you  grant  me  life  so  that  I 
may  behold  your  miracles,  then  I  want  to  live,  and  great 
is  my  thanks  for  every  minute  that  I  survive.  [The 
frightful  cries  of  a  multitude  of  voices  are  now  very  near. 
Reb  Mayshe  begins  to  mount  the  stairs.'\  With  joy  and 
hope  do  I  enter  now  your  house.  God,  I  await  your 
miracles ! 

SCENE    TWO 

Interior  of  the  synagogue.  The  ivindoios  glow  with  the 
red  of  the  setting  sun.  From  outside  comes  the  wild 
noise  of  a  mob. —  In  the  right  corner  sits  the  dumb 
Beggar-woman,  uttering  from  time  to  time  a 
strange  piercing  wail. 

The  Beggar  Woman  [beholding  Reb  Mayshe  wails 
louder  than  ever]. 

Reb  Mayshe  [looks  at  her;  then,  with  a  sigh,  mounts 
the  altar  and  kisses  the  curtain,  taking  it  with  trembling 
hands  and  hiding  his  face  in  its  folds.  He  opens  the 
Holy  Ark  and  kisses  the  sacred  scrolls.  The  beggar 
woman  follows  every  movement  of  his,  and  continues  to 


164  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  IV 

wail  loudly].  Holy  scrolls,  precious  parchments!  There 
yet  will  appear  those  who  will  protect  you !  You  will 
not  have  to  suffer  the  greatest  of  outrages, —  to  be  sul- 
lied in  abandonment,  forsaken  and  forgotten !  Holy 
Torah,  greatest  of  God's  creations,  stand  before  Him  and 
pray  that  he  send  you  at  once  His  army.  [Buries  his 
head  in  the  parchments.]  Dear  God,  dear  God!  .  .  . 
Where  is  your  miracle, —  your  miracle  !  [For  a  while  he 
remains  thus;  then  he  straightens  himself,  dries  his  tears, 
bends  down  to  the  bottom  draxver  of  the  Holy  Ark  and 
takes  out  prayer-shawls  and  surplices.]  See,  dear  God, 
I  am  preparing  for  those  who  are  coming.  And  if 
there'll  not  be  enough  prayer-shawls  and  surplices,  they 
who  must  go  without  them  will  surely  not  be  less  holy  in 
your  eyes.      [Puts  on  a  surplice.] 

The  Beggar  Woman  [runs  up  the  altar,  kisses  the 
sacred  scrolls  and  speaks  in  a  dumb,  futile  wailing;  kiss- 
ing the  scrolls  again,  she  turns  to  Reb  Mayshe  with  a 
pious  expression,  shaking  her  head,  goes  down  from  the 
altar  and  sits  at  the  right  of  the  Holy  Ark,  her  gaze  fixed 
upon  Reb  Mayshe  as  she  continues  to  wail]. 

Reb  Mayshe  [has  looked  upon  her  actions  with  ex- 
altation. He  cries  out].  God,  how  strong  you  are  in 
her !  How  great  are  you,  O  Lord,  if  fear  of  you  dwells 
even  in  such  a  creature.  If  only  all  those  who  have 
denied  you  might  gaze  upon  her  here,  how  they  would 
be  filled  with  your  majesty  and  with  fear  of  your  power! 
They  would  fall  upon  their  knees  and  beat  their  breasts, 
praising  your  name  and  singing  Psalms  to  your  glory. 
.  .  .  Dear  God,  is  that  why  you  gent  her  hither?  Is 
that  why  you  wish  to  have  her  here?  .  .  .  No,  dear 
Lord,  I  beg  you  not  to  do  it!  I  refuse  to  accept  her 
from  you.  I  do  not  want  her.  I  want  your  Jews, — 
your  Jews, —  those  who  have  speech  and  understanding. 


Act  IV]  THE  LAST  JEW  165 

I  entreat  you.  Almighty  Father,  I  ask  no  other  message 
of  you  than  them,  only  them.  Show  them,  and  show  me, 
that  I  am  not  the  only  Jew  nor  the  last  one.  Reveal  to 
me  that  your  army  is  still  a  vast  one,  that  you  yet 
dwell  in  countless  hearts,  and  not  only  in  the  heart  of 
this  dumb,  mad  woman.  Send  me  your  army !  The 
greater  it  will  be,  the  brighter  will  shine  the  glory  of  your 
name.  The  more  lives  that  offer  themselves  to  the  de- 
fense of  your  house,  the  holier  and  more  powerful  will 
you  become.  Dear  God,  surely  you  know  this !  Hear 
my  prayers,  Lord.  Your  miracle,  dear  God,  your  mira- 
cle!  [Outside  there  is  a  tumult  and  a  noise  of  scurrying 
hither  and  thither.  Stones  come  flying  through  the  win- 
dows. One  of  them  strikes  Reb  Mayshe  in  the  temple, 
and  he  begins  to  bleed.  He  seises  the  crorcbar,  raises  it 
high  above  his  head  with  both  hands  and  takes  his  stand 
before  the  doors  of  the  Holy  Ark,  facing  the  entrance  to 
the  synagogue.  He  cries  aloud.']  "  Hear,  O  Israel:  the 
Lord  our  God,  the  Lord  is  one.  Blessed  be  His  name, 
whose  glorious  Kingdom  is  forever  and  forever." 
[Stands  as  if  rooted  to  the  spot.] 

The  Beggar  Woman  [jumps  up  with  a  weird  cry. 
She  begins  to  tremble,  wailing  frightfully  and  gazing 
about  wildly.  Suddenly  she  rushes  forth  from  the  syna- 
gogue with  a  piercing  shriek. —  The  noise  outside  is  at  its 
height;  sounds  of  rioting  and  pistol-shots]. 

Reb  Mayshe  [with  glassy  eyes].  You  took  her  away 
from  here.  You  heard  my  prayer.  Now  I  know  that 
your  army  will  come.  Your  miracle  will  happen,  O  Lord, 
dear  God ! 

Voices  [just  outside  the  door].  This  way!  This  way! 
The  door  is  open ! 

Reb  XLayshe  [gives  a  sudden  start,  so  that  the  crowbar 
falls  from  his  hands<.     He  strides  forward  with  awe-in- 


166  THE  LAST  JEW  [Act  IV 

spiring  happiness].  They  come!  They  come!  "  Who  is 
like  unto  Thee,  O  Lord !  " 

Leon  [with  a  revolver  in  his  hand,  rushes  in,  calling 
to  those  behind  him].  He  is  here!  He  is  here!  [Sev- 
eral  young  men  hasten  in.] 

Reb  Mayshe  [disillusioned].  What?  They  are  com- 
ing to  me?  .   .   .  No.  .  .  .   Not  for  ,  .  .    [He  falls  dead.] 

Leon  [runs  to  him  in  fright].  Grandpa!  [Falling  he- 
fore  the  corpse.]  Dead!  [Looks  for  a  while  at  the 
body,  and  is  lost  in  thought.]  Dead.  The  old  order 
has  departed.     And  .  .  .  now  .  .  .   ? 

CURTAIN 


THE  DUMB  MESSIAH 

A    DRAMA    IN    THREE    ACTS 

[1911] 


PERSONS  OF  THE  DRAMA 

Menahem  Penini,  Court  Physician  and  Tax-Officer. 
Rachel,  his  daughter. 

AVIGDOR  DE   CORBEILLE. 

Leah,  his  wife. 

HiLLEL,  his  son. 

Reb  Joseph,  Rabbi  and  Judge. 

Reb  Samuel  Sossen. 

Reb  Jehiel. 

The  Blind  Man. 

The  Blind  Man's  Son. 

The  Blind  Man's  Daughter-in-Law. 

Levi. 

Miriam,  his  wife. 

Meshulem. 

The  Beggar. 

Blanche,  a  prostitute. 

Count  de  Guesclin. 

First  Soldier. 

Second  Soldier. 

A  Trumpeter. 

Men,  Women  and  Children. 

The  action  takes  place  in  the  year  1306,  during  the  time 
of  a  great  expulsion  of  the  Jews  from  Illyria. 


ACT  I 

A  wide  square  before  the  gates  of  the  city.  To  the 
right,  the  city  wall  xvith  a  deep  gate-way.  To  the 
left,  the  road.  In  the  background,  the  blue  of  the 
lofty  mountains  melts  into  the  distant  horizon.  Two 
soldiers,  armed  with  halberds,  stand  guard  before 
the  closed  gate.  They  are  listening  to  the  confused 
murmur  of  voices  behind  the  gate. 

First  Soldier.  Do  you  hear  anything?  They  ought 
to  be  here  by  now.  When  the  sun  is  high  over  the  city, 
they  must  leave  the  land  forever.  Do  you  hear  them 
coming  } 

Second  Soldier.  I  hear  a  babble  of  voices, —  the 
sounds  of  crying  hard  by  the  gate  and  further  off.  And 
far  in  the  distance  there's  a  noise  of  whistling  and  jeer- 
ing.    They're  marching  them  out  of  the  town. 

First  Soldier.  I  went  bathing  yesterday  and  my  ears 
are  still  full  of  water.     You  say  they're  crying? 

Second  Soldier.  Ha-ha !  .  .  .  Such  a  moaning  and 
wailing! 

First  Soldier.  The  damned  Jews !  My  cursed  luck 
to  be  deaf  on  just  this  day,  and  not  be  able  to  hear  their 
crying.  It  would  sound  sweeter  to  me  than  the  dance 
music  at  the  widow's  tavern.  But  I'll  join  you  in  the 
laugh,  just  the  same.  Ha-ha-ha  !  Let  them  weep!  Let 
them  make  up  for  the  tears  our  Savior  shed  on  Ilis  cross. 
Let  them   weep!      [^Mochs   the  weeping."]      Oh,  oy,  ow! 

169 


170  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  I 

Damned  Christ-killers !  Your  time  has  come  at  last ! 
.  .  .  They  thought  God  had  forgotten  them  altogether, 
and  they  settled  down  in  our  city  and  land  as  if  they 
were  in  their  father's  vineyard.  No  ! !  No  rest  for  such 
as  you !  Out  with  you !  Out  into  the  wide  world  wher- 
ever your  feet  can  carry  you !  Usurers,  bloodsuckers, 
child-murderers !  Christ-killers !  God  bless  our  wise 
king.     He's  driven  the  whole  pack  of  them  — 

Second  Soldier.  Sh!  .  .  .  There  are  cries  of  suffer- 
ing, too. 

First  Soldier.  Ha-ha-ha!  Suffering?  Fine!  All 
the  better!  Cries  of  suffering!  Ha-ha!  It  hurts  'em, 
does  it?  Wliat  a  wise  and  good  king  is  ours!  He  knew 
how  to  rub  it  in,  all  right.  But  it's  a  shame,  I  say,  that 
he  ordered  them  not  to  be  harmed.  Imagine !  We  must 
even  protect  them ! 

Second  Soldier.  Hm !  That's  something  that  vexes 
me  to  the  very  marrow.  I'd  like  to  take  'em,  every  man, 
woman  and  child  of  'em,  all  sizes  and  ages,  and  crack 
their  skulls  for  them,  and  kick  them  to  Kingdom  Come. 

First  Soldier  [^listening  to  the  commotion  inside  the 
gate,  and  making  thrusts  in  the  air  at  imaginary  enemies'\. 
I,  too !  I,  too !  BifT !  Slam !  One,  two,  and  three  I 
...  It  makes  me  sore  to  think  that  they  put  me  on  guard 
at  this  side  of  the  gate.  My !  Wouldn't  I  like  to  be 
there  looking  over  their  bundles  and  having  a  hand  in  the 
inspection,  to  see  whether  they  were  carrying  off  any 
gold  and  silver,  or  jewels.  My  pockets  are  just  crying 
for  everything  they  own.  .  .  . 

Second  Soldier.  I  guess  the  king's  taken  everything 
worth  having  from  the  cursed  troop. 

First  Soldier.  Just  the  same  I'd  be  satisfied  to  get 
what  they've  hidden  on  themselves.  My  empty  pockets 
would  — 


Act  I]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  171 

Second  Soldier.  Hush!  They're  going  to  open  the 
gate  in  a  minute. 

P'iRST  Soldier  [stretching  himself  full  height  against 
the  wall,  towards  the  inside].  Won't  somebody  hold 
my  hands  back  and  bind  my  ieet?  I  must  be  stronger 
than  iron  to  resist  the  temptation  to  get  at  them. 

Second  Soldier.  We'll  each  have  to  hold  the  other 
back.  My  hands  itch  so  for  their  necks  that  I  could 
scratch  them  to  the  bone  without  feeling  the  least  pain. 
Ah!  They're  opening  the  gate!  [The  gate  opens  from 
the  inside,  and  there  pour  forth  bent  figures,  men  and 
women  of  all  ages,  carrying  upon  their  hacks  bundles 
of  various  sizes.  Groups  of  two  and  three  are  seen  bear- 
ing small  chests.  Some  of  the  women  have  children  in 
their  arms,  while  the  older  of  the  children  are  also  carry- 
ing small  bundles.  All,  ea-cept  children  under  twelve, 
wear  round  saffron-yellow  patches  upon  their  breasts  and 
backs.  Women  and  children  are  wailing  loudly.  The 
men  are  deeply  moved,  dejected;  many  of  them  cannot 
restrain  their  tears.] 

First  Soldier  [greeting  the  expelled  Jews  with  an 
outcry].  HsL-Si-al  Damned  Jews !  [Swings  his  halberd 
about.] 

Second  Soldier.  Kr-r-r!  Bah!  [The  Jews  look 
about  them  in  terror,  stoop  even  lower  and  proceed  on 
their  way.  Some  of  them  steal  a  sorrowful  look  back  at 
the  city,  pause  a  moment,  heave  a  deep  sigh,  look  up  to 
heaven  and  then,  reluctantly,  follow  the  others. —  A 
Blind  Man  comes  slowly  through  the  gate,  led  by  his 
son.  The  latter,  with  the  other  hand,  supports  his 
young,  weeping  wife,  who  is  with  child.  All  three  bear 
packs  upon  their  shoulders.] 

The  Blind  Man  [as  if  continuing  a  conversation]. 
The  Messiah  must  come!     I  tell  you,  he  must  come! 


172  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  I 

The  Blind  Man's  Daughter-in-Law  [through  her 
tears].  But  where  is  he?     Where  is  he? 

The  Blind  Man.  He  must  come  !  [There  is  a  sighing 
among  the  men,  and  a  murmuring  of  "  Yes,  Yes."  The 
women  begin  to  weep  all  the  louder  at  his  words. 
Through  the  gate  now  comes  Levi,  a  young  man,  with  a 
tombstone  upon  his  shoulder.  Miriam,  his  wife,  follows 
close  by,  carrying  a  bundle.  At  sight  of  Levi  carrying 
the  tombstone  the  two  soldiers  burst  into  a  fit  of  up- 
roarious laughter.] 

First  Soldier.  He's  taking  a  tombstone  along 
with  him!  .  .  .  There  goes  a  corpse  with  his  head- 
stone ! 

Second  Soldier.  He  surely  must  think  that  he  can 
cut  it  up  into  precious  jewels. 

Levi.  On  the  grave  from  which  I  removed  this  stone, 
which  is  the  holiest  thing  left  in  this  life  for  me,  you  will 
find  everything  I  own.  Go,  seek  it  there ;  you're  welcome 
to  it.  [Walks  on,  and  mutters  between  his  teeth.]  Take 
it,  and  may  it  choke  you!  [Reb  Samuel  Sossen  and 
Reb  Jehiel,  old  men  with  bundles  on  their  shoulders  and 
staffs  in  their  hands,  come  through  the  gate.] 

Sossen.  Let  us  stop  here !  Call  a  halt !  Let's  wait 
until  we've  all  come  together. 

Meshulem  [bearing  a  chest  upon  his  bach].  Will  we 
have  to  wait  long?     Are  there  many  more  yet? 

Sossen.  We'll  soon  see.  Is  it  so  hard  for  you  to  wait? 
Put  down  your  chest  and  rest  yourself. 

Meshulem.  And  then  have  to  lift  it  on  my  shoulders 
again?  I  can't  get  away  from  here  quickly  enough. 
Why  should  I  pierce  my  eyes  with  the  sight  of  our  for- 
bidden paradise  ? 

Sossen.  And  how  will  you  still  the  piercing  grief  in 
your  heart,  my  dear  Meshulem?     Do  be  patient. 


Act  I]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  173 

Miriam.  Ah  !  It  were  best  for  me  to  drop  dead  where 
I  stand! 

Jehiel.  Many  of  us  would  gladly  embrace  the  same 
fate.  Perhaps  all.  But  life  and  death  are  in  God's 
hands.  Why,  look  at  me.  I,  aged  as  I  am,  must  drag 
along  with  the  rest  into  exile,  witli  staff  and  wallet.  I 
am  eighty-three.  Is  it  not  high  time  that  I  should  be  in 
my  grave,  in  eternal  rest?  But  you  see,  I  have  not  yet 
been  called.  It  is  God's  will.  Patience,  my  child.  And 
faith.     Everything  will  come  in  God's  own  way. 

SossEN  [to  the  crorcd].  There  is  no  need  of  your  stand- 
ing. You  may  sit  down.  We're  allowed  to  wait  here 
for  the  others.  [Amidst  much  zceeping  and  sobbing,  the 
exiles  sit  down  upon  the  ground.] 

Miriam.  And  to  think  that  the  sun  can  still  shine! 
How  can  it  look  down  upon  a  scene  like  this  ? 

First  Soldier.  What  do  you  call  this?  They're  mak- 
ing a  regular  camp  out  of  the  place.  Are  we  going  to 
allow  it? 

Second  Soldier.  We  ought  to  disperse  them.  I'll  go 
in  and  ask  the  captain.  [Disappears  xcithin  the  gate. 
Some  of  the  crozcd  approach  and  try  to  get  another 
glimpse  of  the  city.] 

First  Soldier.  Off  with  you !  Not  a  step  nearer ! 
Your  infidel  eyes  are  not  to  stain  our  holy  Christian  city 
with  another  glance !  Bah !  Away  with  you,  dogs ! 
I'll  knock  your  eyes  out  for  you,  and  chop  your  feet  off. 
Brr!  Lepers!  [The  crowd  retreats  reluctantly,  de- 
jected and  dispirited.  One  of  them  covers  his  face  Hfith 
his  hands.] 

Second  Soldier  [comes  stamping  through  the  gate.] 
This  is  outrageous !  Our  orders  are  not  to  interfere  with 
them ! 

First  Soldier.  What!     Then  I  throw  up  this  job  on 


174  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  I 

the  instant.  I'd  sooner  scratch  my  eyes  out  than  stand 
here  looking  upon  such  a  troop  of  unbaptized  Christ- 
killers.  [Spits  upon  the  Jews.]  Tfu!  Tfu!  [Hur- 
ries through  the  gateway.] 

Second  Soldier.  I'm  with  you,  there.  Let  our  com- 
mander send  whomever  he  pleases.  But  I  don't  stay 
here  another  moment.  [Spits  at  the  Jews.]  Tfu ! 
Tfu!      [Hurries  after  the  other  soldier.] 

Levi.  And  we  must  suiFer  all  this  in  patience!  God 
in  heaven ! 

SossEN.  And  is  this  new  to  you?  How  many  sum- 
mers have  you  been  in  the  world.''  How  long  have  you 
been  a  Jew.^  [Seve7-al  young  men  crawl  cautiously 
nearer  the  gate  and  lie  looking,  full  of  longing,  towards 
the  city.  Their  faces  are  pale,  their  eyes  wet  with  tears. 
A  few  can  no  longer  restrain  themselves,  and  how  their 
faces  to  the  earth,  weeping  convulsively .] 

The  Blind  Man.  Word  by  word  the  forecasts  of  our 
holy  prophets  are  coming  true.  The  time  is  ripe  for  the 
Messiah.  For  such  is  the  sign  of  our  redemption:  Be- 
fore the  Messiah  comes,  our  Exile  will  become  more  bitter 
than  ever.  Can  our  Exile  know  greater  bitterness  than 
we  now  suffer?  Are  we  not  the  most  despised  among 
peoples?  They  have  despoiled  us  of  all  our  wealth;  we 
are  poverty-stricken  and  wretched.  David's  son  must 
come,  even  now. 

Daughter-in-Law.  But  he  does  not  come !  And  what 
will  become  of  me?  I'll  have  to  remain  behind.  My 
child  may  be  born  any  day. 

The  Blind  Man's  Son.  We  begged  them  to  let  us 
stay  till  after  the  child  was  born,  or  at  least  not  to  de- 
prive us  of  our  horse  and  wagon.  But  they  who  preach 
the  religion  of  brotherly  love  have  hearts  far  harder  than 
stone. 


Act  I]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  175 

SossEN.  Religion  of  brotherly  love!  Ah,  young  man, 
what  tilings  I  could  tell  you —  But  here  comes  the 
Rabbi.  [^Enter  Reb  Joseph,  a  white-haired,  bent  old 
man,  carrying  under  his  arm  a  Holy  Scroll,  and  on  his 
shoulder  a  bundle.  As  he  comes  through  the  gate  the 
sobbing  and  iceeping  grozc  louder.^ 

Reb  Joseph  [in  a  feeble  voice^.  Weep  not,  my  faith- 
ful children,  weep  not.  You  need  much  strength  for  your 
journey,  and  tears  will  sap  what  little  you  have.  And 
the  way  is  far  and  long.  .   .   . 

Meshulem.  And  whither  does  it  lead? 

Miriam.  We  ought  every  one  of  us  march  in  a  body  to 
the  sea  and  cast  ourselves  into  its  bosom. 

Reb  Joseph.  And  is  that  our  faith  in  God? 

Meshulem.  \Miat  faith  can  a  blighting  hand  inspire? 

Reb  Joseph.  My  son,  you  sin  to  speak  so.  And  why, 
despite  everything,  have  you  remained  faithful  to  that 
blighting  hand? 

Meshulem  [shaking  his  fists  towards  heaven^.  It  is 
maddening.      [The  lamentations  break  out  anew,^ 

Reb  Joseph.  Sh-sh  !     Quiet! 

Meshulem.  No!  No!  I'll  bear  it  no  longer!  [He 
jumps  up  and  dashes  through  the  gate  back  to  the 
city.] 

SossEN.  Meshulem,  Meshulem  !  Turn  back !  —  Woe 
to  him,  he  has  run  to  embrace  the  faith  of  our  persecutors  ! 
[All  eyes  are  turned  in  terror  towards  the  gate.  Reb 
Joseph  rushes  after  the  runaway,  but  comes  to  a  halt  at 
the  gate,  breathless.  He  leans  heavily  against  the  wall, 
his  head  bowed  in  grief.] 

The  Blind  Man.  Desertion  of  the  faith  is  another 
token  of  our  Redemption.  For  before  the  Messiah  comes 
the  weak  and  the  wavering  ones  will  fall  away  from  their 
people  and  adopt  the  faith  of  our  enemies.     All  the  signs 


176  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  I 

are  here.     The  Messiah  must  come,  I  say.     The  time  is 
ripe,  and  he  will  surely  come. 

The  Blind  Man's  Son.  But  the  sorrows  that  announce 
his  coming,  father,  oppress  us  so  mercilessly,  that  when 
the  Messiah  finally  does  arrive  there  will  be  none  of  us 
left  to  redeem.      [The  sobbing  breaks  out  anew.] 

Reb  Joseph  \^turns  back  from  the  gate  and  addresses 
the  people  in  as  loud  a  voice  as  his  strength  can  muster]. 
Weep  not!  Let  not  your  crying  make  the  weak  still 
weaker.  Don't  cry,  I  beg  you.  .  .  .  For  you  sin  against 
God  with  all  this  sobbing !  It  is  true  that  you  leave  be- 
hind your  nation  and  your  homes,  but  you  take  with  you 
your  faith,  which  is  eternal!  Arise  in  all  your  pride! 
Make  merry !  See,  have  we  not  with  us  here  the  Sacred 
Scroll  of  the  Law?  Rejoice  that  you  have  remained 
faithful  to  our  God!  For  you  are  martyrs,  martyrs 
every  one  of  you,  and  martyrs  do  not  weep.  You 
are  all  heroes,  heroes  in  God's  cause,  and  heroes 
do  not  weep !  You  have  fought  in  battle,  the  great- 
est of  all  battles.  A  battle  against  yourselves,  against 
your  evil  spirit.  Naturally  you  were  tempted  to  re- 
main here.  At  the  mere  price  of  forsaking  your  faith 
you  might  have  dwelt  free  and  undisturbed  in  this 
nation,  which  for  generations  we  have  called  our 
fatherland.  But  you  triumphed  over  the  evil  spirit,  in 
this  most  terrible  of  all  battles,  and  carried  off  victory 
like  true  conquerors.  Do  conquerors  weep  at  their  tri- 
umphs }  Do  heroes  return  from  their  victories  in  tears  ? 
No!  Tliey  chant  joyous  paeans  and  play  merry  music, 
clang  the  cymbals  and  dance  to  the  sound  of  fife  and 
drum.  Weep  not,  women!  Are  you  not  all  the  sisters 
of  Miriam,  of  Deborah,  of  Hannah  ?  And  you,  my  little 
children,  stop  your  crying.  For  are  you  not  like  the 
seven  sons  of  Hannah,  who  sacrificed  themselves  for  the 


Act  I]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  177 

glory  of  God  ?  Don't  you  know  any  songs  at  all  ?  Have 
you  already  forgotten  how  to  make  merry?  How  does 
that  little  song  run  in  which  you  praise  the  Lord  for  his 
eternal  goodness?      [He  begins  to  sing.^ 

Grievous  woes  our  folk  has  borne 
Through  its  many  generations 

SossEN  [takes  from-  his  pocket  a  flute,  and  plays  the 
melodyl. 

Some  of  the  Children  and  Women  [catch  up  the 
verses  in  mournful,  broken  voices]. 

In  deepest  trials,  like  manna. 
Help  came  sudden  from  above. 
Praise  ye,  then,  our  Father's  mercy. 
For  eternal  is  His  love ! 
Praise  Him,  tliank  Him  .  .  . 

[Enter  Avigdor  de  Corbeille,  leading  his  wife 
Leah.     They  are  accompanied  by  several  men, 
who  are  carrying  many  bundles.     Leah  walks 
with  fixed  gaze,  rarely  looking  at   the  people 
about  her.     Soon  after  comes  Hillel,  son  of 
Avigdor,  walking  backwards,  one  hand  against 
the   wall,    the   other   upon   his   forehead.     He 
mutters  between  teeth  clenched  in  agony.] 
Hillel.   Illyria  !        Illyria  !       Mother-city  !       Father- 
land !      [Suddenly  he  turns  sharply  around,  and  cries  out 
in  intense  indignation.]      What?!     You're  singing  here?  ! 
You're  making  music !      [He  casts  a  look  of  anger  and 
scorn  upon  the  people.] 

Avigdor.  What's  the  meaning  of  all  this  gayety? 
SossEN.  It's  an  antidote  for  dejection  and  discourage- 
ment. 

Hillel.  And  plunges  us  all  the  deeper  into  despair, 


178  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  I 

Weep^  if  you  feel  grief,      [He  turns  back  to  the  gate  and 
stands  as  if  entranced.] 

Reb  Joseph.  But  we  should  feel  no  grief!  We  must 
not  feel  grief. 

AviGDOR.  We  should  and  must  feel  no  sorrow.  I  know 
what  you  mean.  But  after  all^  those  are  mere  words 
and  are  of  no  avail.  [Helps  Leah  to  a  seat.]  Are  we 
all  here  now .'' 

SossEN.  They're  not  closing  the  gates  yet. 
AviGDOR.  Oh,  now   I   remember  that  I   saw  Penini's 
daughter  hurrying  along. 

Reb  Joseph.  Without  her  father?  They've  put  him 
to  death,  then!  God's  will  be  done!  [A  murmuring 
among  the  people.  "  Penini  is  dead!  "  .  .  .  "  They've 
killed  Reb  Menahem!  "  Sighing;  an  outburst  of  lam- 
entation.] 

One  of  the  Men  Near  the  Gate.  Here  comes  Peni- 
ni's daughter  now ! 

[Enter  Rachel,  a  heavy  pack  on  her  shoulders^ 
She  is  accompanied  by   two  young  girls,  also 
carrying   bundles,   and   several    men,   similarly 
burdened.     Reb     Joseph    and    Sossen    hurry 
to    Rachel.     Hillel    steps    out    of   her   way, 
scarcely  noticing  her.     Avigdor  sits  down  be-  ■ 
side  Leah,  and  buries  his  face  in  his  hands.] 
Reb  Joseph.  Wliere  is  your  father.^ 
Rachel    [stretching  out  her  arms  to  him,  imploringly]. 
Yes,  where  is  my  father.''     [Her  head  sinks  down  upon 
her  bosom.] 

Sossen.  You've  had  no  word  from  him  at  all? 
Rachel   [shakes  her  head].  Not  a  word.     Since  that 
terrible  day  on  which  all  the  Jews  of  Illyria  were  ar- 
rested to  have  the  royal  decree  of  expulsion  read  to  them, 
J  have  not  seen  him.     That  was  a  month  ago.     They  set 


Act  1]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  lid 

everybody   free,  except  him.     And  what's  happened  to 
him  I've  been  unable  to  find  out. 

Reb  Joseph.  Neither  have  I.  Every  door  and  every 
mouth  was  closed  tight. 

Rachel.  There's  only  one  explanation,  then.  I  know 
that  they've  put  him  to  death.  I  could  read  it  in  their 
eyes.  They  told  me  that  they  didn't  know,  but  they 
couldn't  look  me  in  the  face  as  they  spoke.  Oh,  they 
must  have  tortured  him  horribly !  For  they  treated  me 
with  such  sympathy,  and  were  so  nice  and  kind  to  me. 
They  even  tried  to  persuade  me  to  remain  in  the  city. 
Where  would  I  go,  they  asked  me,  bereft  of  my  father 
and  all  my  belongings.^  I  thanked  them  and  answered 
them  freely.  Without  reserve  I  told  them  what  I  thought 
of  their  faith.  It  is  a  miracle  that,  as  a  token  of  their 
universal  love,  they  did  not  burn  me  at  the  stake  for  it. 
.  .  .  But  who  is  crying  here?  And  what  are  they  cry- 
ing for.?  The  Lord  has  tried  us  in  a  crucible  of  fire,  but 
we  have  all  stood  the  test.  The  Exile  is  a  great  sieve 
through  which  he  sifts  out  the  dross  among  us.  Is  this, 
then,  a  cause  for  tears  ? 

HiLLEL.  How  hard ! 

Rachel.  No,  young  de  Corbeille,  I  am  not  hard.  I 
am  firm,  and  such  firmness  we  all  need  in  this  trying 
moment. 

HiLLEL.  Leave  us,  at  least,  the  consolation  of  our 
tears.  We  are  saying  farewell  to  our  motherland  for- 
ever. Do  you  feel  no  grief  at  all,  at  parting  from  your 
home .'' 

Rachel.  My  one  grief  is  my  father.  lUyria  is  my 
stepmotherland,  and  I  leave  it  with  no  regrets. 

Miriam.  And  the  graveyard.''  And  the  grave  of  your 
mother.'' 

Rachel   [shakes  her  head].     No.     Unlike  the  rest  of 


186  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  1 

you,  I  did  not  lie  for  three  days  on  the  gravestones,  fill- 
ing the  graves  with  my  tears.  This  very  morning  I 
sought  out  my  mother's  grave,  and  my  farewell  was  a 
brief  one.  "  Mother,"  I  said,  "  they  deprive  me  of  the 
hope  of  some  day  being  buried  where  you  sleep.  But 
wheresoever  I  may  die,  our  souls  will  meet  at  the  throne 
of  the  same  God.  And  although  I  shall  never  again 
behold  your  resting-place,  you  will  live  forever  in  my 
memory."  I  wept  long  and  bitterly,  I'll  confess,  but  I 
knew  that  they  were  tears  of  weakness. 

Miriam.  You  speak  so  because  you  have  left  behind 
in  the  graveyard  only  your  mother.  But  if  it  had  been 
a  child  of  yours,  a  child  you  loved  better  than  life  itself. 
...  Ah !  It  was  only  by  force  that  they  could  tear  me 
away  from  his  little  grave,  and  it  was  as  if  my  darling 
child  had  died  a  second  time.  [She  falls  upon  the  tomb- 
stone, sobbing  convulsively. 1 

A  Woman.  And  how  about  my  case  ? ! 
HiLLEL.  Do    you    see    my    mother?     Her    wandering 
mind,  her  strange  look,  her  awful  silence  — 

Rachel  [seeing  Leah  for  the  first  time,  utters  a  hor- 
rified exclamation].  Poor  woman! 

HiLLEL.  She's  been  that  way  ever  since  they  tore  her 
away  from  the  graves  of  her  five  children. 

Rachel.  Poor,  poor  woman!  She  was  not  strong. 
At  the  gate  to  the  cemetery  I  stopped  for  one  last  look. 
And  suddenly   a   light  dawned  upon  me.     I   raised  my  , 

eyes  to  heaven,  and  cried  out,  "  Lord,  behold,  we  leave  1 

behind  us  here  our  dead,  and  the  decayed  branches  of 
our  people.     Art  thou  content?  " 

Reb  Joseph.  You're  the  daughter  of  your  father ;  one 
can  hear  it  in  every  word  you  utter.  It  is  your  father's 
spirit  that  speaks  through  you.  Speak  more,  daughter 
of  Penini,  and  strengthen  the  hearts  of  the  discouraged. 


Act  I]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  181 

HiLLEL.  I  could  almost  believe  that  she  is  happy  at 
tlie  decree  of  exile,  since  it  gives  her  opportunity  to  make 
a  show  of  her  strength  —  of  her  firmness,  as  she  chooses 
to  call  it. 

Rachel.  That's  a  malicious  insult.  His  father  is  my 
father's  enemy,  and  that  explains  his  words. 

AviGDOR.  Forgive  him.  It  is  his  great  sorrow  that 
vents  itself  so.  This  wliole  night  he  was  awake,  wander- 
ing through  every  street  in  the  city,  so  that  he  might  bid 
farewell  to  every  nook  and  corner. 

HiLLEL.  My  spirit  is  ill,  my  thoughts  at  a  standstill; 
it  seems  that  everything  within  me  has  died.  Oh,  my 
beloved  home,  my  native  city,  my  fatherland !  [Presses 
his  hands  to  his  head.] 

Rachel.  Where  is  that  rock-like  firmness  for  which 
we  beseech  the  Lord  in  our  daily  prayers? 

HiLLEL.  Yes,  we  pray  for  the  power  to  remain  stead- 
fast to  our  God  and  our  faith.  And  all  of  us  have  that 
power,  even  those  who  lie  here  weeping.  Even  I,  whose 
heart  is  torn  with  grief.  But  as  to  the  power  not  to 
weep,  not  to  cry  out  when  misfortune  so  assails  us  —  no, 
such  power  I  do  not  ask.  For  it  is  cruelty,  inhumanity. 
You  see,  I  am  not  crying,  either.  I  am  man  enough  to 
restrain  my  tears.  But  I  understand  those  who  weep, 
and  even  envy  them  the  tears  they  shed  so  freely.  Nor 
do  I  pour  vinegar  into  their  wounds  by  asking,  "  Wlio's 
crying  here?"  .  .  .  "What  are  they  all  weeping 
about  ? " 

Rachel  [through  her  clenched  teeth].  They  killed 
my  father!     Do  you  understand? 

HiLLEL  [looks  at  her  for  a  moment,  his  eyes  dis- 
tended, then  lowers  his  head]. 

Blanche  [comes  through  the  gate,  sobbing  loudly. 
Iter    arms    are    covered    with    little    bundles.     She    is    a 


18^  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  I 

buxom  ivoman,  in  her  forties'].  How  they  rummaged 
through  every  bundle  of  mine!  With  what  curse  can  I 
curse  such  as  they? 

The  Beggar  \^comes  in  behind  Blanche.  He  is  a 
man  of  about  forty,  in  tatters,  with  staff  and  empty 
wallet].  They  kept  me  a  long  time,  too.  They  refused 
to  believe  that  I  was  so  poor.  I  must  look  like  a  rich 
man  in  disguise. 

Blanche  [putting  down  her  bundles,  and  making 
some  of  them  frmer,  all  the  while  weeping].  The  officer 
recognized  me.  "  Blanche/'  he  advised  me,  "  better  get 
baptized  and  stay  behind  with  us.  Why  should  you  lose 
everything.?  " —  And  I  said  to  him,  "  I  may  lose  every- 
thing, but  not  mv  God !  "  I  have  sinned  enough,  without 
deserting  my  faith.  [Suddenly  breaks  out  into  hyster- 
ical crying.]  My  sins  have  brought  this  upon  you !  My 
sins!  [Beats  her  breasts  with  clenched  fists.]  Burn 
me!  Stone  me!  My  sins  have  brought  all  this  upon 
you!  [Takes  the  end  of  a  cord  into  her  mouth,  and 
busies  herself  tying  a  bundle.] 

The  Beggar.  And  here  they  sit.  What  are  we  wait- 
ing for.'' 

SossEN.  And  why  are  you  so  impatient? 

The  Beggar.  At  the  start  I  like  to  know  the  end, 
and  if  we  must  be  ofF,  what's  the  good  of  sitting? 

The  Blind  Man's  Son.  Yes,  really.  Why  are  we 
still  lying  about  here  ? 

Sossen.  They  have  not  yet  closed  the  gates  against 
us. 

Levi.  And  then,  too,  do  we  know  yet  whither  we  are 
going? 

SossEN.  We  are  going  to  the  first  land  that  will  open 
its  gates  to  us.     And  there  shall  we  remain. 

The  Beggar.  My  idea  exactly. 


Act  I]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  183 

Reb  Joseph.  I  have  had  enough  of  Christian  nations. 
I  have  suffered  enough  humiliation, —  have  been  forced 
to  listen  to  sermons  urging  our  people  to  desert  their 
faith,  preached  by  bloodthirsty  priests  in  my  own  syna- 
gogue. I  have  been  presented  with  a  yellow  patch.  .  .  . 
[Looks  with  loathing  at  the  yellow  patch  on  his  breast, 
and  shakes  his  head.]  I  have  watched  them  burn  our 
holy  books,  so  that  for  years  I  have  not  had  a  Talmud 
to  look  into.  Ah  —  ah !  .  .  .  And  more  than  one  blood 
accusation  I  have  suffered  through.  .  .  .  Yes,  yes. 
Enough  of  the  Christian  lands,  enough!  .  .  .  The  idea 
of  leaving  them  has  been  for  a  long  time  upon  my  mind. 
Better  far  to  dwell  among  Mohammedans,  or  even  with 
idol-worshippers.  But  something  always  held  me  back. 
It  was  so  hard  for  me  to  leave  you.  And  now  I  am  too 
old,  and  want  a  little  rest  and  peace.  For  once,  at  least, 
I  want  to  prepare  for  the  celebration  of  our  sacred  Pass- 
over without  the  fear  that  the  humane  Christians  will 
stain  our  Passover-cakes  with  our  blood,  and  then  say 
that  we  have  used  the  blood  of  Christians  in  kneading 
them.  I  long  for  Africa,  for  Egypt,  and  if  God  is  good, 
He  will  bring  me  to  the  Land  of  Israel,  the  land  of  all 
lands,  the  goal  of  all  goals. 

Reb  Jehiel.  In  my  opinion  we  ought  merely  to  cross 
the  border  and  wait  there.  Mark  my  words,  they'll  call 
us  back  before  long. 

Blanche.  Oh,  God  grant  it!  I'll  not  move  a  step 
from  the  boundary  line. 

First  Man.  It's  Spain  for  me.  Reb  Samuel  is  the 
present  tax-officer  of  Toledo.  And  if  you  took  my  ad- 
vice, we'd  all  go  there. 

Second  Man.  Italy,  too,  is  a  safe  place  for  Jews  these 
days. 

Third  Man.  And    what   about   Germany?     Emperor 


184,  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  I 

Albrecht  is  favorable  to  us.  That's  where  I'll  go.  I 
have  a  first  cousin  living  at  Frankfurt. 

Rachel  [she  has  been  listening  to  the  conversation 
•with  a  bitter  smile,  and  shakes  her  head  sadly'\.  We  Jews 
want  to  disperse  to  the  four  corners  of  the  earth  and 
thus  add  to  the  miseries  of  our  Exile.  [Her  words  at- 
tract the  immediate  attention  of  all,  and  they  raise  their 
eyes  to  her.]  Each  one  seeks  a  spot  for  himself,  and  our 
whole  people  remains  without  a  home.  J[The  interest  of 
the  people  grows.  Hillel  looks  at  her  out  of  the  corner 
of  his  eye.  Others  draw  nearer  to  Rachel.]  You 
would  build  new  homes,  and  have  forgotten  the  old  one. 
[Reb  Joseph  sobs.] 

SossEN.  The  old  home? 

Rachel.  Yes,  the  land  of  all  lands,  the  goal  of  all 

goals. 

AviGDOR   [with  an  impatient  gesture]   You  mean — ? 

SossEN  and  Others.  The  Holy  Land.'' 

Rachel.  The  Holy  Land. 

SossEN.  But  the  Holy  Land  is  too  distant,  my  daugh- 
ter. I  favor  frequent  halts.  You  remember  how  it  is 
written?  "And  they  wandered  forth,  and  then  they 
rested."  Well,  such  is  our  destiny.  One  continuous 
journeying,  resting  and  journeying  forth  again. 

The  Beggar.  That's  just  my  way  of  doing. 

Rachel.  A  beggar's  way  the  destiny  of  Israel? 

SossEN.  Is  this  the  first  time  you  hear  it,  proud 
daughter?  [Ironic  laughter  and  sighing  from  the 
crowd.]  Long,  long  indeed  have  we  wandered  whither 
our  eyes  have  taken  us,  whither  the  winds  have  blown 
us.  Like  beggars  we  knock  at  doors,  our  heads  bowed, 
our  backs  cringing,  and  kiss,  in  all  submission,  the  hand 
that  deigns  to  open  a  door  to  us.  Now  our  way  points 
to  the  South.     And  southward  we  shall  go,  and  stop  at 


Act  I]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  185 

the  first  door.  The  Holy  Land  is  far,  far  away,  my  dear 
daughter.  Our  people  will  not  have  the  persistence  to 
travel  so  far. 

Rachel.  And  what  if  all  the  doors  that  lie  near  are 
closed  against  us? 

SossEN  [sxceeping  her  objection  aside  mith  a  gesture^. 
Yes,  yes,  but  they  are  not  closed.  There  are  Italy, 
Spain,  Germany.   .  .  . 

Rachel.  There  you  are !  So  we  Jews  do  want  to  be 
dispersed,  after  all.  And  of  all  the  sins  of  Israel,  that 
is  the  greatest.  Our  prayers  are  full  of  Zion,  but  we 
do  not  mean  what  we  pray.  How  then  can  God  take 
our  prayers  in  earnest.'* 

Reb  Joseph.  Daughter,  don't  talk  like  that.  We 
have  been  punished  severely  enough.  Don't  make  us 
out  to  be  greater  sinners  than  we  are.  Our  hearts  are 
in  our  prayers.  We  beseech  the  Lord,  and  await  His 
pleasure. 

Rachel.  No,  Israel's  heart  is  numbed,  and  no  longer 
does  he  understand  God's  sign. 

SossEN.  What  sign? 

Rachel.  Our  Exile.  .  .  .  This  expulsion  from  our 
age-long  homes. 

The  Blind  Man.  The  Messiah  speaks  through  the 
girl's  lips ! 

AviGDOR.  The  Holy  Land !  The  place  is  a  desert,  the 
cities  are  in  ruins,  the  soil  is  barren.  What  shall  we  do 
there?  Poverty-stricken,  robbed  of  all  we  own,  without 
a  single  day's  provisions.  [Sighs  and  sobs  from  the 
people.]  ^^Tiat  shall  we  be  able  to  do  in  the  desert? 
^\^lere  shall  we  get  food,  and  who  will  there  be  to  help 
us? 

The  Beggar.  My  whole  business  is  threatened!  I 
refuse  to  go  there  ! 


180  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  1 

Rachel.  I  speak  of  a  land  that  we  have  never  ceased 
to  love, —  the  only  place  where  we  can  truly  feel  at 
home. 

HiLLEL.  Ah,  nowhere  shall  I  feel  at  home.  For  my 
home  was  Illyria.  Henceforth  I  am  an  exile;  from  this 
moment  I  become  a  homeless  wanderer.  \^The  sighing 
and  sobbing  breaks  forth  anew.]  Wherever  I  shall  be, 
my  heart  will  long  for  Illyria.  How  dear  to  me  is 
every  spot,  every  blade  of  grass,  every  bush  and  tree ! 
How  glorious  its  skies,  how  precious  every  breath  of  its 
air !  Ah !  One  loves  only  his  native  spot,  the  place 
where  his  cradle  was  rocked. " 

Rachel  [shaking  her  head  sadly].  You  all  know  my 
father.  [Her  voice  begins  to  quiver.]  That  is,  you  all 
knew  him.  He  was  born  in  Illyria,  and  was  deeply  de- 
voted to  it.  He  was  always  among  its  most  loyal  sons. 
More  than  once  he  gave  proof  of  his  love  for  Illyria,  as 
tax-officer  and  as  court-physician,  and  to  him  no  sacrifice 
was  too  great  for  his  native  land.  Yet  still  greater  than 
this  love  was  his  love  for  the  Old  Home;  his  deepest 
longing  was  the  Holy  Land.  This  was  his  inspiration, 
and  it  gave  to  him  even  the  wings  of  a  poet.  Let  me  re- 
cite for  you  a  hymn,  written  by  my  father  long  ago,  in 
which  he  pours  out  the  innermost  feelings  of  his  heart. 
I  know  he  would  have  chanted  it  far  better  than  I.  [Her 
voice  falters.]  He  would  most  surely  have  lifted  your 
hearts  in  mighty,  throbbing  exaltation,  just  as  he  moved 
my  own.  But  —  [She  struggles  with  her  emotion.] 
His  mouth,  that  spoke  golden  words  ...  is  ...  si- 
lenced .  .  .  forever.  [She  bursts  into  tears.  Several 
women  are  overcome  by  her  sorrow,  and  weep  with  her. 
Rachel  recovers  her  self-control,  and  begins  to  recite 
the  psalm,  at  first  in  a  soft  voice,  choked  with  tears, 
gradually  rising  to  a  note  of  deep  yearning  and  pathos.] 


Act  IJ  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  187 

^\Tiat  makes  my  heart  so  tender,  and  brings  such  painful 

throbbing? 
The  pain  is  from  my  yearning;  my  yearning,  from  my 

love. 
WTiat  chokes  my  throat  with  tear-drops, —  hot  tears  that 

scald  my  eyelids? 
The  tears  flow  from  my  yearning;  my  yearning,  from  my 

love. 
There  lies  a  Land  far  eastward, —  a  City,  where  God 

once  dwelt. 
I  need  but  to  recall  it,  and  grief  brims  o'er  my  heart; 
The  yearning  longs  for  utterance,  and  I  dissolve  in  tears. 
I  behold  it  in  all  its  splendor,  peopled  by  happy  throngs, 
I  see  in  all  its  glory,  the  City  that  David  ruled. 
I  do  not  know  the  Land,  yet  is  my  love  for  it  unbounded ; 
I  have  never  looked  upon  it,  yet  it  fills  my  sight,  my 

heart. 
I  hear  its  sacred  name  pronounced  and  straight  my  heart 

is  moved; 
Whether  awake  or  in  my  sleep,  it  is  my  soul's  one  dream. 
How    I    yearn    for    thee,    Jerusalem!     City   where    our 

prophets  preached. 
How  I  long  for  thee,  Land  chosen  by  God  Himself  for  us. 
Let  Him  but  lead  me  to  thee,  I  will  fall  on  my  knees 

and  kiss  thy  ground. 
As  never  yet  a  lover  showered  his  beloved  with  kisses. 
My  tears  of  joy  will  fructify  thy  soil, 
My  jubilant  cries  will  thunder  through  thy  breezes. 
Who  shall  lead  me  to  thy  breast,  there  to  nestle  like  a 

child  against  its  mother! 
Oh,  my  heart  is  breaking,  my  soul  is  stifled  with  a  yearn- 
ing 
That  grows  from  day  to  day  together  with  my  years. 
Zion,  my  beloved  !     Jerusalem !     Dearest  of  sweethearts  ! 


188  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  I 

\^She  stops,  lost  in  abstraction,  her  tearful  eyes  gazing 
far  off  into  the  distance.  The  hearers  are  plainly  stirred 
and  remain  rooted  to  their  places.     A  soft  weeping. '\ 

AviGDOR  [half  to  himself^.  Ah,  well!     'Tis  but  a  song. 

Rachel  [slowly  lowering  her  glance  to  Avigdor]. 
And  is  that  all  Avigdor  de  Corbeille  has  to  say?  Has 
every  longing  for  our  ancient  home  really  died  within 
him? 

Reb  Joseph  [drying  his  eyes^.  Will  you  take  counsel 
from  me,  your  old  Rabbi  ?  Let  us  depart  for  the  Land  of 
Israel.     All  together. 

The  Beggar.  It's  a  bargain.  There'll  be  houses 
there  to  get  alms  from,  won't  there? 

Blanche.  How  long  will  it  take  us  to  get  there? 

SossEN.  That's  the  important  point. 

Reb  Joseph.  If  we  are  determined  to  reach  the  Holy 
Land,  what  matters  the  length  of  the  journey?  We  set 
ourselves  a  goal,  and  we  will  attain  it. 

Rachel.  That's  the  proper  spirit,  friends.  Let  us 
only  will  it,  and  the  rest  is  easily  accomplished.  You 
have  just  displayed  great  heroism.  You  left  your  native 
country  for  the  sake  of  our  faith.  Now  show  courage 
and  achieve  the  land  to  which  our  faith  is  bound  by  eter- 
nal ties.  My  people,  what  do  you  say?  Are  you  will- 
ing? 

Many  Voices.  We  are!     We  are! 

Rachel  [ecstatically].  Then,  forward  at  once!  Un- 
der God's  banner!  [The  people  arise  and  take  up  their 
bundles.  Cries  of:  "  Forward!  "  .  .  .  "  Let's  make  a 
ttart."  ..."  Let's  be  off,  then."  ] 

The  Blind  Man  [in  exaltation'].  The  Messiah's 
spirit  moves  among  us  ! 

Sossen   [shouting].  Hold!     The  gates  are  still  open. 


Act  I]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  189 

We  must  wait.  There  must  be  some  Jews  still  on  the 
way. 

Reb  Jehiel.  Or  perhaps  .  .  . 

SossEN.  What  other  explanation  can  there  be? 

Reb  Jehiel,  Perhaps  —  with  the  Lord's  aid  all 
things  are  possible  .  .  .  perhaps  they  have  reconsidered 
their  action.''  Maybe  God  has  turned  the  King's  mind 
from  evil  to  good,  and  we'll  be  invited  to  return.  [Com- 
motion among  the  people;  murmuring.^ 

HiLLEL  [as  if  suddenly  awakening].  God  in  Heaven! 
[Raises  his  hands  toward  heaven.] 

Rachel,  [observing  the  crowd,  with  fright  on  her 
face].  Almighty  God! 

Reb  Jehiel.  Help  has  always  come  to  us  in  the  hour 
of  our  greatest  need.  For  only  one  night  Ahasuerus  did 
not  sleep,  yet  the  Jews  were  all  saved. 

SossEN.  What  a  great  miracle  that  would  be ! 

AviGDOR.  But  it  will  not  happen.  The  king  needs  our 
money.     And  his  coffers  are  mightier  than  his  heart. 

Reb  Jehiel.  But  the  hearts  of  kings  and  princes  are 
in  God's  hand. 

Blanche.  Oh,  if  God  would  only  show  us  now  his 
great  mercy.  ...  I  am  unworthy  of  it.  [Drags  her 
bundles  nearer  to  the  gate.] 

The  Blind  Man's  Daughter-in-Law.  Dear  God, 
show  us  thy  miracle  ! 

Miriam.  Thou  hast  the  power,  O  Lord  !  The  power  is 
thine!  [The  crowd  begins  to  edge  nearer  to  the  gate; 
a  troubled  and  excited  conversation  arises.] 

The  Blind  Man.  Impossible!  The  Messiah  must 
come.  It  was  forecast  in  the  writings  of  the  holy  scholar 
Reb  Simon,  son  of  Johai,  in  his  sacred  work  called  the 
"  Zohar."     When   the   sixtieth,   or   six-and-sixtieth   year 


190  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  I 

will  have  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  sixth  millennium  of 
the  world,  then  the  Messiah  will  arrive.  We  are  now  in 
the  six-and-sixtieth  year.  .  .  .  The  time  is  ripe  for  the 
Messiah.  But  before  he  appears,  our  sorrows  will  grow 
more  in  number,  not  less. 

SossEN.  I  place  my  trust  sooner  in  God's  wonders 
than  in  the  calculations  of  a  Cabbalist. 

Miriam.  Oh,  dear  God!  Father  in  heaven!  [^The 
babble  of  voices  breaks  out  once  more,  followed  by  a 
sudden  silence.  The  two  soldiers  come  through  the  gate, 
escorting  a  man  bound  with  ropes.  They  thrust  him  to 
the  ground  and  return,  stopping  at  the  gate.] 

First  Soldier.  We're  closing  the  gates  now  against 
you  forever,  you  Jews.  Any  one  of  you  that  makes  his 
way  back  to  this  city  will  be  either  beheaded  or  forcibly 
baptized.  Such  is  the  decree  of  the  King  and  the  Holy 
Church!  [The  soldiers  disappear.  The  gates  swing 
heavily  to.  A  loud  wailing  breaks  out.  Hillel  hides 
his  face  in  his  hands,  his  bosom  heaving. '\ 

Rachel.  My  father!  My  father!  [Covers  her  face 
and  sobs.l 

AviGDOR  [ironicallyl.  There  is  your  miracle !  I  knew 
it! 

The  Blind  Man.  The  Messiah  is  near. 

Reb  Joseph.  Who  is  it  that  the  soldiers  brought? 
[With  Sossen  and  several  others  he  approaches  the 
bound  figure.]  Penini !  Reb  Menahem!  Blessed  be 
He  who  bringeth  the  dead  back  to  life ! 

Rachel  [with  an  outcry].  My  father!  [She  rushes 
to  the  bound  figure,  followed  by  her  companions.  The 
crowd  makes  way  for  her.  She  approaches  the  new- 
comer, whom  Reb  Joseph  and  Sossen  have  by  this  time 
released  from  his  ropes  and  are  supporting  under  the 


Act  I]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  191 

arms.  She  throws  herself  upon  his  neck  with  hysterical 
tears  and  laughter.]  Father !  You  live !  You  live ! 
[She  kisses  his  face  and  hands  in  wild  joy.]  I  thought 
that  they  had  put  you  to  death!  .  .  .  Oh,  how  I  burned 
with  grief  because  I  did  not  know  where  you  had  dis- 
appeared !  .  .  .  I  clenched  my  teeth  so  as  not  to  go  in- 
sane with  the  agony!  .   .  .  Father!     My  father! 

Penini  [his  eyes  filled  with  tears,  kisses  his  daugh- 
ter, fondles  her  cheeks  affectionately,  holds  her  axcay 
from  him  so  that  he  may  get  a  good  look  at  her,  then 
presses  her  close  to  him  again  and  kisses  her.  Strange 
tones  of  deep,  repressed  sighs  force  their  way  through 
his  lips.  He  embraces  her  tenderly,  now  kissing  one 
cheek,  now  the  other,  gradually  making  his  way  with 
her  to  the  foreground.  The  crowd,  deeply  moved,  makes 
way  for  them.  Rachel's  companions  follow,  and  kiss 
the  folds  of  Penini's  cloak]. 

Rachel.  Father !  Father !  —  Oh,  let  me  look  at 
you !  —  How  gray  you've  become !  They  tortured 
you  !  —  Your  face  is  bruised  !  —  And  they've  plucked 
your  beard.  [With  a  sudden  scream  of  horror.]  Oh! 
Your  nails !   .   .   . 

Penini    [caresses  her,  and  seeks  to  calm  her]. 

Rachel.  How  you  must  have  suffered !  What  agony  ! 
Oh,  father,  father,  father  dear ! 

Penini  [breathes  with  difficulty,  and  bites  his  lips  as 
if  to  restrain  a  violent  fit  of  weeping]. 

Rachel.  Speak !     Tell  us  all  about  it. 

Penini  [from  his  tightly  compressed  lips  he  utters  a 
strange  cry  of  grief,  and  covers  his  face]. 

Rachel  [clasping  his  hands].  Father!  What  is  the 
trouble .''     Father ! 

Sossen.  He   must  have   undergone  terrible  things   at 


192  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  I 

their  hands.  I've  had  a  taste  of  it  myself.  [Sobbing 
and  sighing  among  the  people.  Cries  of  "  Yes!  '* 
"  Yes!  "  ] 

Miriam.  He  hasn't  yet  uttered  a  single  word !  That's 
how  horribly  they  tortured  him. 

Penini    [repeats  his  strange  cry  of  grief '\. 

Rachel.  Father!  My  darling  father!  Speak!  Let 
me  hear  your  voice  again,  if  only  for  a  single  word ! 
Speak  out,  cry  out  your  sufferings,  your  humiliation.  .  .  . 
Father ! 

Penini  [suddenly  draws  to  his  full  height,  opens  his 
mouth  wide,  and,  clinging  to  Rachel,  cries  in  pitiful 
tonesl.  — augh  —  er!  [Daughter.]  [The  crowd  is 
seized  with  horror.  People  recoil  from  Penini  in 
fright."] 

Rachel  [shudders,  her  hands  on  her  cheeks,  then  looks 
upon  her  father  with  eyes  distended  in  consternation]. 

Penini  [his  voice  is  somewhat  stronger,  but  more 
tearful  than  before.  He  points  to  his  mouth].  — augh 
—  er !  [Bursts  into  tears.  A  commotion  among  the 
people.  There  is  a  frightened  murmuring:  "His 
tongue."  ..."  His  tongue."] 

Rachel  [screaming  in  horror].  His  tongue !  They've 
cut  out  his  tongue!  [She  swoons.  Hillel  catches  her 
and  lays  her  tenderly  down.  Her  companions  hasten  to 
her  assistance  and  revive  her.  When  she  comes  to,  she 
breaks  into  a  hysteric  wailing.  Reb  Joseph,  Sossen, 
AviGDOR,  Reb  Jehiel  and  others  gather  about  Penini 
in  great  terror.] 

Leah  [arises  slowly,  looks  at  Rachel,  then  at  Penini, 
from  whom  she  does  not  remove  her  eyes.] 

Penini  [ceases  his  weeping,  dries  his  cheeks,  opens 
his  eyes,  gases  about  him,  then  walks  over  to  Rachel  and 
lays  his  hand  upon  her]. 


Act  I]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  193 

Rachel  [shuddering].  Father!  Father!  [Turns  her 
face  towards  the  ground  and  weeps.] 

Penini.  —  augh  —  er.  E  —  ough.  —  op  —  kh  — 
yi-g.  [Enough,  stop  crying.]  [She  continues  to  weep. 
Penini  then  makes  signs  to  the  people  about  him  that  he 
wants  to  write  something.] 

HiLLEL  [goes  over  to  a  small  package,  takes  out  a 
writing-tablet  and  a  stylus  and  gives  them  to  Penini]. 

Penini  [writes  down  something,  and  thrusts  the  tab- 
let before  Rachel's  eyes]. 

Rachel   [shudders  and  utters  a  wild  exclamation]. 

Penini  [gives  the  tablet  to  Hillel,  pointing  to  Ra- 
chel]. 

Hillel  [deeply  moved,  reads  to  Rachel].  "Stop 
crying,"  writes  your  father.  Calm  yourself.  Control 
yourself.  For  from  this  day  on  you  must  be  his 
tongue. 

Penini  [nodding  sadly,  and  speaking  with  difficulty]. 
M-m-y  —  ongue!  [My  tongue.]  [He  utters  his  sylla- 
bles very  slowly.  His  "  n  "  is  nasal,  while  the"  g  "  and 
"  r "  are  guttural,  and  the  "  f  "  is  blown  through  the 
lips  rather  than  pronounced.] 

Rachel    [struggles  to  master  her  tears]. 

Penini  [surveys  the  crowd.  His  glance  falls  upon 
Avigdor], 

AviGDOR  [hastens  to  Penini's  side  with  outstretched 
hand].  We  were  enemies,  Menahem  Penini,  and  lived 
through  all  our  days  in  enmity  and  envy.  .  .  . 

Penini    [makes  a  gesture  of  protest]. 

Avigdor.  It  makes  no  difference  which  of  us  envied 
the  other.  It  makes  no  difference  which  of  us  was  the 
guilty  one.  Now  we  are  friends  once  more.  Now 
everything  is  forgotten. 

Penini   [grasps  Avigdor's  hand  in  a  hearty  clasp]. 


194  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  I 

SossEN.  Common  sorrows  bring  reconciliation  and 
peace. 

The  Beggar.  Yes,  when  there's  no  further  profit  in 
continuing  the  quarrel. 

Penini    l^shakes  his  head,  with  a  bitter  smile^. 

Reb  Joseph  [as  if  suddenly  recalling  something,  and 
seeking  to  brush  the  unwelcome  thought  aside,  passes  his 
hand  over  his  face].  Well,  brothers  and  sisters,  the  gates 
have  closed  upon  us  forever.  Then  let  us  be  off.  There 
is  nothing  else  for  us  to  wait  for.  Say  a  last  good-by 
to  your  native  city,  now,  without  tears,  if  you  can,  and 
with  courage  and  pride.  Remember  the  holy  goal  we 
have  set  ourselves.  Peace  be  to  you,  Illyria !  Our  heart- 
felt gratitude  to  you  for  the  joyous  days  we  spent  within 
your  gates.  And  for  the  evil  that  we  suffered  you  will 
have  to  give  account  to  the  Righteous  Judge  above.  We 
were  loyal  to  you  and  loved  you  with  all  our  hearts. 
But  you  did  not  care  for  our  love  any  longer.  May  God 
judge  you,  but  with  more  love  and  mercy  than  you 
judged  us.  Peace  be  unto  you!  [There  is  a  general 
wailing,  and  the  people  shoulder  their  bundles.] 

Penini    [breathing  heavily,  with  fixed  gaze]. 

Rachel    [arises  and  rushes  to  embrace  him.]   Father ! 

Reb  Joseph.  Reb  Menahem,  just  before  you  came, 
your  daughter,  filled  with  your  spirit,  won  us  over  to  the 
Land  of  Israel. 

Penini  [in  happy  surprise].  Go-k !  [God]. 

Reb  Joseph.  Yes,  she  spoke  to  us  just  as  you  your- 
self would  have  done,  and  gladly  we  voted  to  make  the 
journey  to  the  Holy  Land. 

Penini  [in  great  joy  he  raises  Rachel's  head,  looks 
at  her  with  deepest  love,  and,  with  eyes  turned  to  heaven, 
cries  out  in  ecstasy].  Go-k,  m-my  —  ongue !  [God! 
My  tongue!] 


Act  I]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  195 

Reb  Joseph.  Yes,  she  is  indeed  your  tongue.  Be 
our  leader,  now,  Penini.  Lead  us  to  the  land  of  our 
longings,  to  our  home  of  old. 

Penini  [makes  an  emphatic  nod  of  assent,  his  eyes 
still  raised  to  heaven'].  Ye — [Yes]!  [He  lowers  his 
gaze,  and  it  falls  upon  the  Holy  Scroll  in  Reb  Joseph's 
arms.  He  embraces  it  impulsively,  clasps  it  to  his 
bosom,  raises  it  in  both  his  hands  and  stands  exalted  in 
silent  prayer.  There  is  a  deep  silence,  as  if  none  would 
desecrate  the  moment  with  noise.] 

Leah  [walhs  all  around  Penini,  looking  at  him  with 
an  expression  of  puzzled  awe], 

Penini  [turns  to  the  crowd,  holding  the  Holy  Scroll 
aloft.     With  firm,  slow  steps-  he  walks  to  the  left]. 

Rachel,  spreading  out  her  arms,  inspired].  Forward! 
On  our  way!  [Turns  to  her  bundle,  and  shoulders  it. 
There  is  a  bustle  among  the  people.  Quiet,  repressed 
weeping.]  When  the  Jews  came  forth  from  Egypt  it 
was  with  song  upon  their  lips.  From  afar  there  beck- 
oned to  them  a  home  all  their  own.  That  same  home 
now  beckons  to  us.  No  more  tears !  No  more  wailing ! 
Sing,  Jews;  sing  songs  of  praise  to  the  Lord!  Sing 
praise  to  the  Lord! 

SLOW    CURTAIN 

Which  descends  while  Rachel  is  speaking. 


ACT  II 

A  camp  on  the  seashore;  in  the  background,  the  sea. 
From  the  left  center  stretches  a  road  that  reaches  the 
middle  of  the  stage,  then  turns  around  to  the  sea 
and  leads  to  a  high  cliff  which  hides  the  water  from 
view.  To  the  right  of  the  cliff  grows  a  large  tree. 
On  both  sides  of  the  stage,  tents;  to  the  left,  be- 
hind the  foremost  tent,  a  tree.  From  the  water's 
edge  come  the  sounds  of  splashing  waves  and  chil- 
dren at  play. 

The  Beggar  goes  about  from  one  tent  to  the  other,  stop- 
ping at  each  entrance.  He  bows  his  head,  stretches 
out  his  hand,  takes  it  back  as  if  he  had  been  given 
something,  shoves  it  into  his  wallet,  nods  thanks, 
and  mumbles.  At  other  times  he  makes  a  wry  face, 
as  if  he  had  been  refused  alms,  lowers  his  hand  with 
a  sigh,  and  walks  off  sulkily. 

Blanche  [running  in  from  behind  the  hill].  What 
are  you  doing  at  my  tent?  What  are  you  looking  for 
there  ? 

The  Beggar.  I'ni  merely  practicing.  Practicing, 
that's  all.  I  don't  want  to  forget  the  fine  points  of  my 
trade. 

Blanche.  All  my  belongings  are  tied  good  and 
strong.     You  won't  be  able  to  steal  a  thing. 

The  Beggar.  I  never  steal.  I  simply  beg.  Don't 
you  see  how  I  bow  my  head?     How  is  it  that  I  can  tell 

196 


Act  II]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  197 

by  a  look  at  you  just  how  you  earn  your  living?  You 
ought  to  do  like  me,  and  keep  in  practice  lest  you  forget 
your  trade. 

Blanche  [screaming].  Listen,  Jews,  to  his  talk! 
His  mouth  reeks  with  filth.  Why  didn't  they  cut  out 
his  tongue? 

The  Beggar.  As  for  you,  they  should  have  drawn 
and  quartered  you  altogether. 

Blanche,  You  low-down  beggar,  I'll  grab  hold  of 
you  and  throw  you  into  the  sea ! 

The  Beggar.  Into  the  sea  of  your  lust,  you  mean? 
My  word  as  a  man,  you  won't  do  anything  of  the  kind! 

Blanche.   Bah!      [She  disappears  into  her  tent]. 

The  Beggar.  Bah  yourself!  [He  stretches  his  hand 
to  the  opening  of  Blanche's  tent,  derisively,  and  with- 
draws it  at  once.  His  face  contracts  in  scornful  disgust, 
and  he  -walks  away.  As  he  comes  to  the  foremost  tent 
upon  the  left,  Rachel  issues  from  it.] 

Rachel.  Do  you  want  something? 

The  Beggar.  No,  my  noble  damsel,  I  need  nothing. 
I'm  merely  practicing.  [He  proceeds  on  his  way,  and 
is  soon  lost  among  the  tents]. 

Rachel  [remains  standing  in  the  entrance  to  her 
tent,  gazes  out  over  the  sea,  and  then  towards  the 
opposite  tent  on  the  right.  She  walks  slowly  by  it, 
casting  furtive  glances  inside.  At  last  she  comes  to  a 
stop  near  the  tree,  still  eyeing  the  tent  restlessly,  as  if 
she  would  not  care  to  be  discovered]. 

Hillel    [comes  out  of  the  tent  she  is  watching]. 

Rachel   [blushes  deeply,  and  is  about  to  leave]. 

Hillel  [stopping  her  with  his  outstretched  hand]. 
Are  you  looking  for  some  one?  Tell  me,  and  I'll  call 
him  for  you. 

Rachel.  I  have  my  companions. 


198  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  II 

HiLLEL.   Perhaps  you  are  looking  for  them? 

Rachel.  They're  in  their  tent. 

HiLLEL.  This  is  the  sixth  day  that  we've  been  to- 
gether. 

Rachel.  That's  just  how  many  I  counted,  too. 

HiLLEL.  Rachel! 

Rachel.  How  is  your  mother  feeling.'* 

HiLLEL.  She  is  resting  comfortably,  thank  you.  But 
I  wanted  to  say  that  — 

Rachel.  Ah,  how  beautiful  the  sea  is !  I  look  and 
look  upon  it,  and  cannot  turn  my  eyes  away.  Last 
night,  when  sleep  would  not  come  to  me,  I  lay  awake  and 
listened  to  the  rhythm  of  its  waves.  It  sounded  like 
heavenly  music. 

HiLLEL.  You  do  not  care  to  hear  me. 

Rachel.  Did  you  say  anything?  It  seems  that  only  I 
am  speaking,  and  that  I  could  talk  forever.  Yonder,  far 
over  the  waves  lies  the  land  of  our  dreams,  the  goal  of 
our  longing. 

HiLLEL  Isadlyl.  In  my  dreams  I  see  Illyria.  And  — 
you. 

Rachel  [embarrassedl-  Ha-ha.  You'll  not  find  me 
in  Illyria.     Your  dream  is  false. 

HiLLEL.  Yet  I  behold  you  in  it.  [^  sound  of  laughter 
from  the  children  at  play.] 

Rachel.  Just  listen  to  the  laughter  of  the  children. 
To  them  it  is  as  if  God  had  created  the  vast  sea  as 
their  own  playground. 

HiLLEL.  Rachel,  I  dreamed  of  you. 
Rachel.  What?  Oh,  to  be  sure.  Yes,  so  you  were 
telling  me.  But  why  speak  about  dreams  ?  Dreams  are 
so  silly.  [The  children  laugh  again.']  They  must  be 
having  a  jolly  time!  I  must  run  to  them  and  watch 
their  games. 


Act  II]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  199 

HiLLEL  [seizing  her  hand].  Rachel! 

Rachel  [softly].     Hillel,  let  me  go. 

HiLLEL.   Be  frank. 

Rachel.  Why  —  what  do  you  mean? 

HiLLEL.  You  were  but  just  now  looking  for  me. 

Rachel.  It  was  wrong  of  you  to  spy  upon  me  from 
your  tent. 

HiLLEL.  Last  night  I  was  awakened  by  weeping  —  a 
bitter  wailing,  that  plucked  at  m}^  very  heartstrings. 

Rachel.  I  heard  nothing,  though  I  scarcely  closed  my 
eyes. 

HiLLEL.  Yes,  you  heard  nothing  then,  and  you 
don't  wish  to  hear.  It  was  my  love  weeping  within 
me,  like  a  strayed  child  looking  for  its  home.  So  I  lay 
all  the  night  through,  with  eyes  wide  open,  gazing  across 
to  your  tent.  All  morning,  too,  I  have  been  watching 
the  same  spot.  I  saw  how  you  came  to  the  op>ening  of 
your  tent  this  morning,  and  looked  over  to  mine.  And 
that  same  longing  that  I  now  know  so  well,  was  in  your 
eyes,  too.  I  jumped  up  with  your  name  on  my  lips  — 
but  your  father  came  out  to  you.  What  joy  I  felt,  and 
how  much  greater  and  deeper  than  ever  my  yearning 
became,  when  I  saw  you  look  away  from  your  father  and 
steal  another  glance  at  me ! 

Rachel.  At  you? 

HiLLEL.  Well  then,  at  my  tent, —  the  opening  of  it. 

Rachel  [her  eyes  closed].  No.     At  you !     At  you! 

HiLLEL  [with  a  cry  of  jubilation].  Rachel!  [Em- 
braces her  and  kisses  her  passionately.  For  a  moment 
they  stand  as  if  entranced.] 

Rachel  [suddenly  coming  to  herself  and  trying  to 
thrust  him  away].   No!     No! 

HiLLEL.  My  darling! 

Rachel  No!     No!     Impossible! 


200  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  II 

HiLLEL.  What  do  you  mean?     What  is  impossible? 

Rachel.  My  father  .  .  . 

HiLLEL.  Your  father  will  not  stand  in  the  way  of  our 
happiness,  nor  will  mine. 

Rachel.  But  you  do  not  know  my  father's  plans. 

HiLLEL.  Plans?  Has  he  any  plans  for  you?  Has 
he  already  chosen  a  husband  for  you?  And  is  that  man 
among  us  ? 

Rachel  [shakes  her  head'\.  No,  no.  .  .  .  It's  some- 
thing else  .  .  .  entirely  different.  .  .  . 

HiLLEL.  But  what  is  it  that  can  come  between  us  and 
make  our  union  impossible? 

Rachel.  That  I  cannot  tell  you.  It  is  a  secret.  My 
father's  greatest  secret. 

HiLLEL.  Then — [looking  a'way'\.  I'm  the  unlucki- 
est  of  men.  One  misfortune  after  another.  First  my 
mother,  then  my  home,  and  now  .  .  . 

Rachel.  That's  why  I  wanted  to  hide  my  feelings 
from  you.     But  you  made  me  confess ! 

HiLLEL  [passionatelyl^.  But  you  do  love  me!  You 
love  me!  Tell  it  to  me!  Let  me  hear  you  say  it!  I 
want  to  drink  it  in  with  every  fiber  of  my  being!  Tell 
it  to  me !     You  love  me !     You  love  me ! 

Rachel   [closing  her  eyes] .  I  —  love  —  you ! 

HiLLEL  [jubilant].  Oh!  [Falls  on  his  knees  before 
her,  burying  his  face  in  the  folds  of  her  dress.] 

Rachel  [as  before,  placing  her  hand  tenderly  upon 
his  head] .  I  —  love  —  you !  [From  the  water's  edge 
there  come  running  in  a  group  of  merry  children. 
Laughing  and  shouting  they  cross  to  the  road  on  the  left 
and  disappear.  As  they  run  by,  Rachel  shudders  and 
opens  her  eyes.] 

HiLLEL.  This  is  —  the  awakening.     [Rises  slowly.] 

Rachel  [covers  her  face  with  both  hands]. 


Act  II]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  201 

HiLLEL.  If  a  man  stands  between  a  high  clifF  and  the 
deep  sea,  what  can  be  his  end? 

Rachel  [^closing  her  eyes  once  more,  she  shudders  and 
stretches  out  a  hand  towards  him']. 

HiLLEL.  Such  will  be  my  end,  between  my  love  and 
your  father's  secret. 

Rachel.  Hillel,  your  words  stab  me ! 

HiLLEL  \^passionately'].  And  is  there  no  hope  left  me 
at  all.''  Tell  me.  I  can  hardly  believe  it.  My  father 
was  supposed  to  go  to  Italy.  You  and  I  should  have 
reached  the  parting  of  our  ways  on  the  second  day  after 
the  expulsion.  But  suddenly  my  poor  mother  took  it 
into  her  head  to  refuse  to  leave  your  father,  and  we  were 
forced  to  remain  with  her.  So  that  you  and  I  did  not 
separate  after  all,  and  with  every  day,  with  every  hour, 
with  every  step,  our  heaven-sent  love  grows  within  us. 
For  surely  it  was  God's  will  that  kept  us  together.  And 
there  is  no  other  between  us  —  is  there  ?  You  said  so 
yourself.  Your  father  has  not  chosen  any  other  for 
you .'' 

Rachel.  No.  [Softly,  and  slowly.]  He  wants  me 
all  for  himself. 

Hillel.  What?  What  can  that  mean?  WTiat  sacri- 
fices does  he  ask  of  you  ? 

Rachel.  Listen,  then.  He  —  but  first  give  me  your 
oath.  .  .  .  No,  you  needn't  swear.  Whatever  I  tell  you, 
you  are  to  forget  at  once.  I  know  that  they  could  not 
tear  it  from  you  even  by  torture. 

Hillel.  Your  secret  will  be  sacred  to  me,  Rachel. 

Rachel  [looking  about  and  lowering  her  voice].  As 
soon  as  all  of  us  who  have  been  driven  from  Illyria  are 
happily  settled  in  the  Holy  Land,  my  father  plans  to 
journey  through  all  the  lands  where  the  Jews  dwell  in 
their  exile,  and  summon  them  back  to  their  ancient  home. 


202  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  H 

HiLLEL  [not  understanding  her"].  Well?     So  what? 

Rachel.  So  I  must  go  with  him.  He  will  be  Moses, 
and  I,  his  Aaron.  He,  the  head  and  the  masterly  will; 
I,  his  tongue. 

HiLLEL.  So  that  is  it ! 

Rachel.  I  must  be  free,  and  belong  to  him  alone. 

HiLLEL.  Your  father  wants  to  be  the  Messiah ! 

Rachel.  Whosoever  will  come  to  summon  our  people 
from  their  exile,  and  lead  them  forth  from  it, — he  will  be 
the  Messiah,  he  will  be  our  Savior. 

HiLLEL.  That  differs  from  my  belief  in  the  Messiah. 
Not  any  man  at  all  can  be  our  Savior.  He  must  be  sent 
by  God,  and  come  from  the  house  of  David. 

Rachel.  How  will  you  recognize  him?  Surely  not  at 
first,  but  only  at  the  end,  when  our  people  shall  have 
been  delivered. 

HiLLEL.  But  the  Messiah  himself  will  know  that  he 
has  been  sent  by  God.  The  Lord  will  reveal  it  to  him 
plainly  enough. 

Rachel.  In  the  darkness  of  the  dungeon,  wracked  and 
tortured,  in  terrible  agony;  his  tongue  cut  out  because, 
in  his  grief  at  the  decree  of  expulsion,  he  had  dared  to 
utter  a  harsh  word  against  the  king,  my  father  beheld 
a  vision. 

HiLLEL.  Proclaiming  him  the  — 

Rachel.  He  lay  there  waiting  for  death,  which  he 
felt  was  but  a  matter  of  hours.  But  his  mind  was  only 
upon  the  horrible  fate  of  his  people,  and  his  heart  was 
breaking  with  despair.  Suddenly  it  seemed  to  him  that 
a  voice  was  calling,  a  voice  that  spoke  to  him  and  said, 
"  You  shall  not  die.  You  shall  go  forth  from  this  place 
and  lead  the  Jews  out  of  exile !  "  And  he  felt  that  his 
tongue  had  been  restored  to  him. 


Act  II]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  203 

HiLLEL.  But  his  tongue  was  not  restored,  Rachel. 

Rachel.  Yet  his  life  was  spared  and  he  was  freed, 
and  I  was  his  tongue,  and  with  his  thoughts  of  Zion  I 
won  over  our  people. 

HiLLEL.  Do  you  believe  that  your  father  is  the  Mes- 
siah ? 

Rachel  [softly,  after  a  brief  silence'].  To  me  he  is  my 
father. 

HiLLEL.  And  that  means — ? 

Rachel.  That  I  am  his  tongue,  and  so  shall  be  for- 
ever. I'll  read  the  tiniest  thought  from  his  eyes;  his 
every  breath  will  inspire  me  with  the  most  fiery  words. 
\Yherever  he  goes,  I  will  follow  — 

HiLLEL.  But  our  new  found  love,  Rachel? 

Rachel  [she  pretends  that  she  has  not  heard,  hut  her 
voice  quivers'].  And  all  the  children  of  exile  will  answer 
our  call.  They  who  have  suffered  persecution  through 
the  ages,  who  have  been  driven  from  place  to  place,  will 
all  rally  to  our  banner.  They  who  long  for  rest,  who 
yearn  for  the  ancient  home,  will  follow  us.  From  East 
and  West,  from  North  and  South,  joyous  armies  of  Jews 
will  march  back  to  their  home  of  old,  the  old  love  flaming 
up  anew  in  their  breasts,  radiant  with  hope  and  gladness ! 

Penini  [comes  out  of  his  tent.  His  face  expresses 
great  surprise  and  happiness].  — augh — er!  [Daugh- 
ter.] 

Rachel  [hastening  to  him].  Father! 

Penini  [takes  her  in  his  arms  and  clasps  her  tightly 
to  his  heart.  He  kisses  and  caresses  her.  Then,  still 
holding  her  close  to  him,  he  casts  a  penetrating  glance 
at  Hillel]. 

Hillel  [calmly,  after  a  brief  pause].  Reb  Menahem 
Penini,  I  love  your  daughter. 


204  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  H 

Penini  [shudders,  then  moans'].  Oh  —  oh!  [Turns 
to  Rachel,  raising  her  eyes  to  his.  She  lowers  her 
eyes.] 

HiLLEL.  She  loves  me,  too.      [Pe^^i^i  gasps  in  fright.] 

Rachel.  No,  father,  no!  I'll  stay  with  you.  I'll  be 
true  to  you.  I  love  him  ever  so  much  —  I  haven't  yet 
told  him  how  deeply.  But  you  are  more  to  me  than  any- 
thing else  in  the  world.  More  than  my  life.  More  than 
my  love. 

Penini  [tears  his  hair,  groans,  clenches  his  teeth, 
stamps  his  foot,  beats  his  mouth  in  desperation,  breathing 
•with  difficulty], 

Rachel  [throwing  herself  on  her  knees  before  him, 
seizing  his  hands].  No,  no,  father!  Father!  Don't 
suffer  so!  It  breaks  my  heart!  [In  tears.]  I  can't 
bear  to  see  it.     I  can't  bear  to  see  it! 

Penini  [gradually  becoming  calm,  his  eyes  closed. 
Soon  he  opens  them,  and  looks  at  Rachel  and  Hillel. 
He  frees  one  hand  and  points  first  to  Hillel,  then  to  his 
daughter  and  himself.  Rachel  looks  on,  puzzled. 
Penini  repeats  his  gestures  with  more  emphasis],  Ig  — 
he  —  wig  —  ug.^      [Is  he  with  us.^] 

Rachel  [catching  his  meaning].  Whether  he's  with 
us,  you  ask? 

Penini  [nodding].  Ye — [Yes].  [Rachel  lowers 
her  head,  Penini,  his  bosom  heaving  with  emotion, 
looks  beseechingly  at  Hillel,  and  points  to  Rachel.] 
— e  ig  my  — ongue.      [She  is  my  tongue.] 

Hillel.  I'll  not  take  her  away  from  you,  Reb  Mena- 
hem.  But  don't  you  take  her  away  from  me,  either. 
Give  her  to  me.  And  your  ways  shall  be  my  ways. 
Wherever  you  go,  I  will  follow.  And  if  I  cannot  speak 
for  you,  I  will  not  keep  her  from  being  your  tongue. 
[Penini  looks  at  him  with  an  unwavering  gaze.] 

Rachel    [raising  her  eyes  slowly,  in  soft  entreaty]. 


Act  II]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  205 

Father ! 

Penini  [still  gazing  at  Hillel.  He  breathes  hard. 
Then  he  looks  at  Rachel.  Tears  come  to  his  eyes,  and 
his  features  twitch.  Tenderly  he  frees  himself  from 
Rachel,  turns  around  and  walks  off  a  few  paces.  For 
a  moment  he  stops,  raises  his  eyes  to  heaven,  dries  his 
tears,  and  takes  from  his  bosom  the  writing-tablet.  He 
writes  down  something,  turns  back  and  hands  the  tablet 
to  Hillel  and  Rachel,  who  have  watched  him  in  pain 
and  deepest  sympathy]. 

Rachel  [in  joyous  surprisel.  The  wedding  will  take 
place  in  the  Holy  Land!  [Throws  her  arms  about  her 
father's  neck].  Oh!  Father!  [Penini  embraces  her 
fondly,  and  kisses  her  on  the  forehead.] 

Hillel.  God  bless  you,  Reb  Menahem ! 

Penini  [looks  at  Hillel  with  the  same  unwavering 
glance  as  before,  then  offers  him  his  hand.  Hillel 
grasps  it  eagerly  and  kisses  it.  Penini,  his  eyes  full  of 
tears,  which  he  attempts  to  hide  by  covering  his  face, 
turns  away  from  Hillel  and  Rachel  and  goes  bach 
towards  his  tent]. 

Hillel   [with  arms  outspread].  My  Rachel! 

Rachel  [falling  into  his  arms].  My  Hillel!  [They 
kiss  passionately. —  Suddenly  there  arises  a  great  commo- 
tion to  the  left.  .  .  .  There  is  a  scurrying  hither  and 
thither,  and  a  babble  of  many  voices.] 

Voices  [shouting].  A  messenger  is  hurrying  to  us  I  A 
messenger!  [From  far  off  comes  the  sound  of  glad 
cries.    "Hurrah!    Hurrah!    Good  news!    Joy!    Joy!"] 

Penini  [at  the  entrance  to  his  tent.  Shudders,  then 
steps  into  the  road  and  looks  with  wide  open  eyes  in  the 
direction  of  the  popular  tumult]. 

Hillel    [softly,   as    if   intoxicated].     Do   you   hear? 


306  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  II 

They're  shouting  Joy!     Yes,  joy!     Joy  and  happiness! 

Rachel.  My  darling!     My  only  one! 

HiLLEL.  Never  before  have  I  heard  your  voice  so 
sweet  and  so  tender.  Sweetheart!  [They  kiss. —  The 
shouts  grow  louder,  and  have  come  nearer.'\ 

Voices.  It's  Meshulem !  —  it's  Meshulem !  —  Meshu- 
lem's  come  with  good  news ! 

AviGDOR  [rushes  out  of  his  tent  and  takes  the  road  to 
the  left.  Reb  Jehiel,  Sossen,  Blanche  and  others 
come  running  in  from  the  right.  Enter  Meshulem,  in 
rider's  costume,  surrounded  by  a  throng  of  men,  women 
and  children.  Hillel  and  Rachel  release  one  another 
and  look  with  expressions  of  happy  wonder  at  the  as- 
sembled crowd]. 

Meshulem.  Good  news  !  Joy !  Joy !  Glad  tidings  ! 
Help  and  deliverance!  Wliere  is  the  Rabbi?  Where  is 
Penini,''  Ah!  Here  is  de  Corbeille!  And  here  is  Sos- 
sen! 

Voices.  What's  the  good  news? —  Speak  up! 
Speak  up  !  —     Out  with  it !  —     The  good  news ! 

Reb  Joseph  [enters  from  the  left  and  makes  his  way 
through  the  crowd].  Good  news?  This  must  surely  be 
one  of  the  tokens  of  God's  favor, 

Penini  [gasps,  as  if  he  had  suddenly  understood  some- 
thing. He  goes  over  to  the  tree  where  Hillel  and  Ra- 
chel are  standing,  so  as  not  to  be  noticed  by  the  throng. 
He  seizes  Rachel  by  the  hand  and  is  fixed  to  the  spot 
in  breathless  anticipation  of  the  news]. 

Meshulem  [raises  his  hand  as  a  sign  for  silence].  Be 
silent,  and  hear  how  great  is  the  grace  of  God.  [The 
babble  subsides.]  Hear,  then!  King  Philip  is  dead, 
and  the  new  king  invites  you  all  to  return.  [There  is 
an  outburst  of  great  rejoicing.] 

Voices.  How?! —     What? —     Praised  be  the  Lord 


Act  II]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  207 

of  the  Universe  !  —  [People  embrace  themselves  for  joy.'\ 

Penini  [at  the  beginning  of  Meshulem's  speech  he 
puts  his  hand  into  his  bosom,  draxos  a  very  deep  breath, 
takes  out  a  parchment  and  passes  it  quickly  to  Rachel. 
He  turns  his  stern  gaze  upon  the  people,  who  are  beside 
themselves  -with  joy,  and  then  raises  his  eyes  to  heaven]. 
Gok!      [God.] 

Rachel  [at  the  announcement  of  Meshulem's  mes- 
sage she  has  suppressed  a  cry  of  joy.  She  takes  the 
parchment  and  strengthens  herself  to  read  it.  Soon  her 
eyes  open  wide  with  astonishment,  and  her  breath  comes 
faster  and  fa^ter'\. 

HiLLEL  [he  has  stepped  forward  a  short  distance,  to 
get  a  better  look  at  the  messenger  and  to  observe  the 
crowd.  At  Meshulem's  joyful  news  he  hastens  back  to 
Rachel's  side,  happiness  beaming  from  his  countenance. 
But  one  look  at  Penini,  and  Hillel's  joy  turns  to 
gravity.  Seeing  that  Rachel  is  absorbed  in  her  excited 
reading,  he  stops  and  looks  at  her  in  questioning  sus- 
pense]. 

Leah  [comes  out  of  her  tent,  looks  about  her,  catches 
sight  of  Penini  and  does  not  remove  her  glance  from 
him]. 

Rachel  [finishes  reading,  raises  her  distended  eyes  to 
Penini  and  looks  at  him,  astounded]. 

HiLLEL.  Rachel,  what  ails  you?  What  has  hap- 
pened ? 

Rachel  [still  looking  at  her  father,  gasps].  Hillel,  my 
father  foresaw  it ! 

Hillel.  What?! 

Rachel.  He  beheld  it  in  his  vision !  God  revealed  it 
to  him.     It's  all  written  down  here. 

Hillel  [glancing  through  the  writing].  Wonderful! 
[Meanwhile  the  excitement  of  the  crowd  subsides.] 


208  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  II 

Voices.  Sh-h-h !  —  Silence,  there !  —  Quiet !  — 
Quiet ! 

AviGDOR.  Come,  people,  let's  have  silence !  Let's  hear 
the  particulars.      [There  is  a  hush.l 

Meshulem.  It  happened  three  days  ago,  on  the  third 
day  after  you  left  lUyria.  King  Philip  went  out  hunt- 
ing. He  saw  a  stag  and  spurred  his  horse  after  it,  full 
speed.  His  eyes  fixed  on  the  stag,  he  failed  to  see  a 
deep  ditch  in  his  way.  Both  horse  and  rider  fell  into  it 
and  were  killed. 

The  Crowd.  Ah-h-h! 

Reb  Joseph.  The  hand  of  God! 

The  Crowd.  God's  hand!     The  hand  of  God! 

Meshulem.  Yes,  God's  hand !  And  even  the  new 
king,  King  Louis  the  Tenth,  recognized  God's  hand  in  the 
event,  and  yesterday  dispatched  messengers  in  all  direc- 
tions to  call  back  the  Jews  that  had  been  driven  out. 
He  invites  you  to  return  to  your  homes,  where  you  may 
dwell  henceforth  in  greatest  security,  and  promises  to 
protect  you  even  as  the  apple  of  his  eye.  [Hurrahs, 
embraces  and  glad  cries.  Children  run  about  in  glee, 
and  mothers,  with  babes  in  arms,  dance  for  joy.^ 

Penini  [clasps  his  hands  and  shakes  them  in  entreaty 
toward  heaven]. 

Hillel  [to  Rachel].  Do  you  see  how  happy  they 
are.''  They  have  already  forgotten  their  quest  of  the 
Holy  Land. 

Rachel.  I'll  remind  them  of  it. 

Hillel.  What  will  you  say  to  them?  They'll  not 
follow  you.     They'll  return  to  Illyria. 

Rachel.  I  am  my  father's  tongue. 

Reb  Joseph  [to  Meshulem].  Where  are  the  king's 
messengers .'' 

Meshulem.  They're  on  the  way.     Naturally  they're  in 


i  » 


Act  IIJ  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  209 

no  great  hurry.  But  my  great  joy  spurred  on  my  horse, 
and  he  flew  as  if  wings  carried  him,  I  gave  myself  no 
rest,  and  kept  riding  through  the  whole  night.  Give  me 
a  place  to  lie  down^, —  anywhere  at  all, —  for  I  need  only 
to  close  my  eyes  and  I'll  fall  fast  asleep,  happy  to  have 
been  the  first  to  break  the  good  news  to  you. 

Reb  Joseph.  And  what  will  become  of  those  Jews  who 
forsook  their  faith.''     You're  one  of  them,  aren't  you.'' 

Meshulem.  To  my  great  shame!  We  are  fast  in  the 
clutches  of  the  Church,  and  our  troubles  will  only  just 
begin.  Outwardly  we'll  have  to  remain  Christians,  and 
perpetuate  the  Jewish  faith  in  secret.  We  were  weak, 
and  the  harshest  punishment  is  none  too  great.  But 
despite  all,  we  are  Jews !     We  are  Jews ! 

SossEN.  A  wise  man  once  told  me  a  good  one.  There 
are  three  kinds  of  water,  he  said,  that  are  used  to  no 
purpose :  the  water  that  falls  into  the  ocean, —  for  the 
ocean  has  water  aplenty;  the  water  that  is  poured  into 
wine, —  for  it  serves  merely  to  spoil  the  taste ;  and  the 
water  with  which  they  baptize  a  Jew  —  for  he  remains  a 
Jew  despite  everything.      [Loud  laughter.^ 

Meshulem  [joining  in  the  laughter,  then  seriously]. 
Oh,  but  we  that  forsook  our  faith  will  have  a  hard  time 
of  it,  harder  by  far  than  you  ever  suffered.  We  are  for- 
bidden, under  penalty  of  being  burned  at  the  stake,  to 
have  anything  to  do  with  unbaptized  Jews,  and  at  every 
step  we  take  we  shall  be  spied  upon  by  people  with 
murder  in  their  hearts.  Remember !  Keep  it  secret  that 
I  have  been  among  you,  unless  you  want  the  priests  to 
still  their  hunger  for  human  flesh  with  a  nice  roast 
Meshulem.  My  joy  at  the  good  news  was  so  great  that 
I  didn't  let  the  danger  hold  me  back,  and  I  came  flying 
to  you. —  But  I'm  so  sleepy  I  can't  stand  on  my  feet. 
^Vho'll  take  me  to  his  tent.'' 


310  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  II 

Reb  Joseph.  Come  with  me,  my  son.  I  want  to  ask 
you  something  before  you  fall  asleep. 

Meshulem.  I'll  be  sound  asleep  before  you've  finished 
your  questions.  [Goes  out  towards  the  right  with  Reb 
Joseph,  hut  suddenly  stops  and  calls  out  to  the  throng.'\ 
I'm  so  drowsy  I  came  near  forgetting  one  of  the  princi- 
pal things.  The  king  promises  to  provide  all  the  cloth- 
ing and  food  you  need  for  a  whole  year.  [Disappears. 
There  is  an  outburst  of  wild  glee.  People  dance  and 
sing,  kiss  and  embrace.^ 

Hillel  [softy,  to  Rachel].  Rachel,  consider  .  .  . 

Rachel  [entreatingly'\.  Beloved,  you  promised  not  to 
interfere  with  me. 

Hillel.  Very  well.  I'll  say  nothing.  The  people 
themselves  will  answer  you,  in  clear  and  unmistakable 
tones. 

Blanche  [dizzy  from  dancing  and  turning,  observes 
the  Blind  Man  being  led  by  his  son  and  daughter-in-law. 
She  shouts  derisively].  Well,  Mr.  Blind  Man,  you  see 
that  your  Cabbala  told  a  lie! 

The  Blind  Man.  You  impious  woman's  mouth,  how 
dare  you  poke  fun  at  the  Cabbala! 

Blanche.  It  told  a  lie,  I  say.  The  sorrows  of  the 
Jews  are  at  an  end.     And  the  Messiah  will  not  come. 

The  Blind  Man.  And  who  are  you,  to  rejoice  that  the 
Messiah  will  not  come.'' 

The  Beggar.  If  you  could  take  one  look  at  her,  you'd 
go  blind  again. 

Blanche.  You  low-down  beggar !  You  two-legged 
louse !  Hey !  [She  begins  to  dance  again."]  An  end 
to  all  our  sorrows  now ! 

The  Blind  Man.  Don't  be  too  sure  of  that.  Little 
you  know  how  God  can  make  our  sorrows  greater.  Who 
knows  what  the  king's  real  intentions  are."*     His  father 


Act  IIJ  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  211 

beat  our  bodies  with  rods,  and  the  son  will  sting  us  with 
scorpions. 

Voices.  Shut  his  mouth  for  him !  Stop  his  mouth ! 
[Harsh  hands  are  laid  upon  him.  His  son  and  daughter- 
in-law  defend  him.'] 

The  Blind  Man.  The  Messiah  must  come!  The 
Messiah  must  come  !     The  time  is  ripe  for  him ! 

Penini  [with  firm  step  advances  to  the  quarreling 
group  and  cries  out  in  reproach],  Ah-h-h !  [There  is  a 
sudden  hush;  the  Blind  Man  is  released.  The  eyes  of 
the  crowd  are  turned  to  Penini^  and  all  retreat  before 
his  look.] 

Rachel  [hastens  to  Penini's  side  and  embraces  him 
lovingly].  Father,  I  am  at  your  side. 

Penini  [he  seizes  her  hand  with  both  of  his,  and  closes 
his  eyes,  as  if  he  would  communicate  to  her  every  atom 
of  his  strength,  and  the  full  power  of  his  thoughts], 

Rachel  [in  a  loud  voice],  Jews,  have  you  then  for- 
gotten altogether  the  goal  of  our  journey?  [Silence,] 
Have  you  forgotten  that  we  are  waiting  here  for  the 
ships  which  will  bear  us  across  the  sea  to  our  Holy  Land.'* 
[Deep  silence.]  Do  you  remember  that  when  I  asked 
you  whether  you  wanted  to  go  to  Palestine  you  all  cried 
out  lustily,  "  We'll  go !     We'll  go !  "  ? 

SOSSEN.    Not  I. 

AviGDOR.  Nor  I,  either. 

Reb  Jehiel.  Neither  did  I. 

Voices.  Nor  I  —     Nor  I  —     Nor  I ! 

Blanche.  And  certainly  not  I ! 

The  Beggar.  I  was  completely  indifferent. 

Levi.  And  suppose  we  did!  At  that  time  Illyria's 
gates  had  closed  against  us.  So  instead  of  taking  our 
chances  with  a  strange  country  we  agreed  to  go  to  Pales- 
tine, because  that  is  our  old  home  and  our  Holy  Land. 


212  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  II 

But  now  .  .  .  the  case  is  different!     Illyria  opens  its 
gates  to  us ! 

HiLLEL  [with  an  ironic  laugh].  There  you  have  it! 
[Rachel  shudders.  Penini  opens  his  eyes  and  looks  at 
her  with  silent  power.] 

SossEN.  I  call  all  this  a  waste  of  time.  We  could  have 
packed  our  things  and  been  on  our  way  back  by  now. 

AviGDOR.  No,  not  so  fast.  We  must  wait  for  the 
king's  messengers.  There  are  certain  conditions  that  we 
must  make  —  we  must  talk  these  things  over  calmly. 
We  mustn't  appear  to  be  too  eager  to  return. 

The  Beggar.  I'll  be  the  most  stubborn  of  all.  They'll 
have  to  get  down  on  their  knees  and  beg  me  to  go  back. 

Reb  Jehiel.  And  anyway,  to-morrow  is  the  Sabbath. 

Rachel  [loudly,  as  if  attempting  to  drown  out  her 
own  vacillating  thoughts].  Jews,  you  must  not  go  back 
to  Illyria! 

AviGDOR  [laughing].  We  must  not?  That's  easily 
said. 

SossEN.  We  must  not  return,  you  say,  when  the  king 
sends  us  a  special  invitation? 

The  Beggar.  And  promises  to  provide  us  with  clothes 
and  food  for  a  whole  year ! 

Blanche.  Ha-ha-ha!  Just  listen  to  her!  [A  con- 
fusion of  voices  arises.] 

Rachel  [shouting  above  the  din].  It  is  true  that  the 
new  king  calls  you  back  to  his  realm,  but  do  not  forget 
his  Christian  subjects,  who  detest  your  very  presence. 

AviGDOR.  The  king  is  their  ruler  and  he  promises  us 
all  security. 

Rachel.  And  if  the  people  rise  against  you,  will  his 
promises  be  able  to  protect  you?  Know  that  the  Illyri- 
ans  hate  you  and  seek  your  destruction.     They  hooted 


Act  II]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  213 

you  out  of  the  kingdom,  cursed  you  and  spat  upon 
you,  and  only  armed  force  kept  them  from  murdering 
you. 

AviGDOR.  That's  just  it!  That  same  armed  force  will 
again  be  on  our  side. 

SossEN.  It  was  always  like  that,  dear  daughter.  Even 
before  the  exile.  Yet  all  of  us,  including  you  and  your 
father,  dwelt  in  Illyria  and  never  thought  of  leaving  it. 
And  if  you,  or  your  father,  or  both  of  you,  or  any  one 
else  at  all  had  come  and  spoken  to  us  with  the  tongue 
of  an  angel  about  the  Land  of  Israel,  we  should  perhaps 
have  given  you  our  respectful  attention,  but  hardly  one 
would  have  stirred  from  the  spot. 

HiLLEL  [murmurs'].  He's  right! 

Rachel  [shudders.  Then,  under  her  father's  steady 
glance,  she  continues  in  a  broken,  faltering  voice].  Jews, 
Illyria  is  the  scene  of  most  bloody  insults  committed 
against  you.  Will  you  so  soon  forget  them.?  Where  is 
your  pride? 

SossEN.  Pride?  Ah!  We  have  long  forgotten  to  be 
proud  before  others  —  with  this  yellow  patch  sewed  onto 
us! 

Levi.  Pride?  There  are  feelings  stronger  far  than 
pride.  If  your  father  had  insulted  you,  and  had  im- 
mediately regretted  it,  would  you  still  adhere  stubbornly 
to  your  pride,  and  refuse  his  hand  ? 

Miriam.  Pride !  And  in  Illyria  my  child's  grave 
waits  for  me! 

Levi.  Pride  !  WTien  we  shed  tears  of  blood  at  parting 
from  Illyria!  Pride!  When  we  would  gladly  have 
given  our  lives  for  a  grave  in  Illyria's  soil! 

HiLLEL  [crying  out].  They're  right!  They  speak 
truth !     Our  hearts  are  full  of  Illyria.     It  stirs  in  our 


I 


2U  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  II 

every  breath,  and  we  should  .   .  .   ^Suddenly  stops,  and 
turns  away  his  head.^ 

Rachel  [^breathless  with  astonishment,  looks  at 
HiLLEL  with  distended  eyes]. 

Penini  [rvith  firm  command,  to  Rachel].  — peak,  my 
— ongue,  — peak!      [Speak,  my  tongue,  speak.] 

Rachel  [trying  to  recall  something  to  her  thoughts, 
and  to  banish  a  conflicting  purpose.  She  is  at  a  loss  for 
words].  Fellow  Jews  .  .  .  Jews  .  .  .  Zion  waits  .  .  . 
Zion  waits  for  you!  Your  old  home,  the  Holy  Land, 
your  mother !  .  .  , 

AviGDOR.  Bah !  Mere  words !  Come,  Sossen,  Reb 
Jehiel,  come.  We've  got  to  discuss  what  to  say  to  the 
king's  messengers.  [Avigdor,  Sossen  and  Reb  Jehiel 
zcalk  off  to  the  right,  followed  by  several  of  the  men.] 

Levi.  Come,  all  of  us.  Let's  await  the  king's  emis- 
saries along  the  roads.  [Disappears  to  the  left.  The 
crowd  follows  him,  shouting  and  hurrahing.] 

The  Beggar.  Well,  I'm  off  to  business.  Friday  is 
my  best  day.      [Exit  to  the  left.] 

Rachel  [calling  after  the  croxvd].  Jews,  Zion  begs 
you  .  .  .  [Falls  upon  Penini's  shoulder.]  Father,  I 
can  do  no  more !     Father,  they  will  go  back  to  Illyria ! 

Penini  [gasping  with  despair].  Oh!  — o  — ow  — I 
— am  — umb !  [Now  I  am  dumb!]  [Beats  his  gaping 
mouth  with  his  closed  fists;  closes  his  mouth  and  strikes 
his  compressed  lips.  He  throws  his  arms  wildly  about, 
and  utters  a  stifled,  long-drawn  groan.] 

Rachel  [wailing].  Don't,  father!  Don't!  Be  pa- 
tient with  me ! 

Penini.  — o  — ow  — I  am  — imib!  Gok!  [God!] 
[Falls  upon  his  face,  sobbing  bitterly.] 

Rachel  [kneeling  down  over  him].  Father!     Father! 

HiLLEL  [breathing  hard,  covers  his  eyes]. 


Act  II]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  215 

Leah  [s^e  has  been  standing,  all  this  time,  in  the 
opening  of  her  tent,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  Penini.  She 
•walks  slowly  over  to  ^m].  He  is  suffering.  He  is 
weeping. 

CURTAIN 


ACT  III 

Scene.  Same  as  Act  II. 

Rachel  is  still  upon  her  Jcnees,  her  face  buried  in  her 
hands.  Hillel  stands  beside  her,  his  hand  resting 
tenderly  upon  her  head.  Leah  faces  Penini's  tent, 
her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  entrance.  From  time  to 
time  she  looks  at  Rachel,  with  an  expression  of 
surprise  and  sympathy. 

Hillel.  Rachel,  how  long  will  you  stay  like  this.'' 
Calm  yourself,  pray, 

Rachel  [^sobbing'].  Father!  Father!  Now  he  is 
dumb  indeed !  How  my  ears  burn !  How  my  heart  is 
torn  with  grief !  I,  not  the  king,  rendered  him  dumb ! 
I,  not  the  king,  cut  out  his  tongue ! 

Hillel.  They  didn't  care  to  hear  you.  They  ran  off. 
Even  your  father  could  have  had  no  better  effect  upon 
them. 

Rachel.  No,  no, —  I  know  the  reason !  I  did  not  do 
my  duty.  Words  came  from  my  mouth,  but  my  head  and 
my  heart  were  elsewhere.  How  should  they  be  expected 
to  listen  to  me,  when  I  did  not  listen  to  myself?  —  when 
I  myself  heard  only  you,  and  my  heart  was  filled  with  a 
new  fear, —  that  you  would  return  to  Illyria ! 

Hillel.  We  shall  all  go  back  to  Illyria.  You,  too, 
and  your  father. 

Rachel.  We  must  not  think  of  returning  to  Illyria! 

We  must  go  on  to  Zion ! 

216 


Act  III]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  217 

HiLLEL.  But  you  heard  the  answer  of  the  people. 

Rachel.  No,  I  was  not  m^'self  when  I  spoke.  If  not 
for  that  new  fear,  I  would  have  spoken  far  differently. 

HiLLEL.  But  with  the  same  outcome.  Sossen  spoke 
truly  when  he  told  you  that  not  even  the  tongues  of 
angels  could  have  won  them  away  from  Illyria. 

Rachel.  And  will  you,  too,  go  back.'' 

HiLLEL.  Yes,  and  you,  too,  with  your  father. 

Rachel.  Impossible!  Impossible!  Illyria, —  tlie 
land  that  maimed  him  for  life ! 

Hillel.  Do  you  know  —  you  have  no  further  right  to 
speak  to  the  people  in  favor  of  Zion  and  against  Illyria, 

Rachel  [looking  up  at  him  in  astonishment].  What 
can  you  mean? 

Hillel.  Because  your  words  reflect  only  the  indigni- 
ties they  heaped  upon  j^our  father. 

Rachel.  That  is  not  true!  That  has  nothing  to  do 
with  the  glorious  thought  of  Zion:  the  Zionist  ideal  is 
our  family  heritage. 

Hillel.  Then  you  are  determined  never  to  return  to 
Illyria  } 

Rachel  [shaking  her  head].  They  maimed  my  father 
there  for  life. 

Hillel.  That  might  have  happened  to  him  in  the  land 
of  Israel,  and  under  a  Jewish  king.  Would  you,  in  that 
case,  have  forsaken  the  Holy  Land,  too.^  And  if  we 
had  not  been  driven  out,  would  you  have  willingly  aban- 
doned Illyria  through  indignation  at  the  king's  cruelty.? 
Uo  you  not  really  love  Illyria.?  Come,  let's  sit  in  the 
shade  of  this  tree,  and  let  me  remind  you  of  that  beauti- 
ful land.  Lake  and  hill,  field  and  forest,  I'll  recall  to 
your  memory.  Illyria's  spacious  skies,  Illyria's  sun  and 
stars.  I'll  lead  you  through  all  its  beloved  spots,  wliero 
we  roamed  in  happy  childhood.  .  .  ,  I'll  take  you  to  the 


218  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  HI 

graveyard  .  .  .  [Rachel  begins  to  weep.']  Come,  be- 
loved, don't  close  your  heart  to  me.      Let  me  win  you  over. 

Rachel  \hrokenly'].  And  what  if  my  father  clings  to 
Zion  despite  all? 

HiLLEL.  You  mean  he  would  go  thither,  alone?  That 
would  amount  to  abdicating  his  mission  as  the  Messiah, 
and  you  would  no  longer  be  his  tongue. 

Rachel  [^covering  her  face].  Terrible!  [^Stands  thus 
for  a  moment,  then  takes  her  hands  from  her  eyes.]  But 
what  if  my  father  really  is  the  Messiah? 

Leah  [startled.  She  looks  in  fright  at  Rachel,  then 
resumes  her  fixed  gaze  upon  the  entrance  to  Penini's 
tent]. 

Hillel.  If  your  father  is  really  the  Messiah,  then 
God's  will  shall  be  done.  But  God  will  first  make  his 
will  clear  as  crystal  to  us.  The  day  of  His  miracles  is 
not  yet  past. 

Rachel.  But  only  just  now  you  said  that  even  the 
Messiah  himself  .  .  . 

Leah  [with  a  sudden  cry,  her  eyes  distended  and  her 
arms  shielding  herself,  steps  backward  to  her  tent. 
Then  she  sinks  to  her  knees  and  begins  to  mumble. 
Rachel  springs  to  her  feet  in  fright]. 

Hillel  [hastening  to  his  mother's  side].  What's  the 
matter,  mother?  What  frightened  you  so?  [Places  his 
arms  about  her,  nestles  her  head  against  him,  and  ca- 
resses her  soothingly.] 

Penini  [comes  out  of  his  tent.  Looks  about  for  Leah, 
who  is  hidden  from  him  by  Hillel  and  Rachel.  He 
gazes  upon  Rachel  with  sorrow  in  his  eyes,  and  shakes 
his  head. —  Suddenly,  from  the  left,  comes  the  noise  of 
many  people  rushing  hither  and  thither.  Penini  takes 
a  few  steps  towards  the  road]. 


Act  III]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  219 

Leah  [^catches  sight  of  him  and  cries  out  as  befgre. 
HiLLEL  and  Rachel  follow  the  direction  of  Leah's 
glance'\. 

Rachel,  It's  my  father !  Just  see  with  what  terror 
she  looks  at  him ! 

HiLLEL.   I  can't  understand  it! 

Voices  [from  the  left].  The  king's  messengers!  The 
king's  messengers!  [The  cries  and  the  bustling  of  peo- 
ple grow  louder,  as  if  approaching .] 

HiLLEL  [trembling,  seizes  Rachel's  hand].  What's 
all  the  shouting  about?  Do  I  hear  rightly?  The  king's 
messengers  ? 

Rachel.  Now  —  now  something  must  happen. 

Penini  [climbs  to  the  top  of  the  cliff,  places  himself 
behind  the  tree,  from  where  he  looks  down  towards  the 
left.  Soon  he  turns  his  gaze  in  the  direction  of  the 
ocean,  and  stands  thus  as  if  under  a  spell. —  Avigdor, 
Sossen,  Reb  Jehiel  and  several  other  men  hasten  across 
the  stage  from  the  right  to  the  left.  They  are  stopped 
by  the  crowd  that  has  come  running  in  from  the  other 
direction]. 

Voices.  The  king's  messengers !  Messengers  from 
the  king! 

Levi.  I  saw  them  the  moment  they  came  dashing  out 
from  between  the  hills. 

Avigdor.  Silence !  Back  to  your  tents !  Some  of 
you,  if  you  want  to,  may  sit  down  by  the  seashore,  but 
don't  look  around. 

SossEN.  I  can't  see  your  point. 

Avigdor.  They  mustn't  know  that  we've  been  waiting 
here  for  their  arrival,  or  that  we  know  the  news  they 
bring. 

SossEN.  They  needn't  know.     Can't  we  all  be  gath- 


220  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  IH 

ered  here  for  any  number  of  reasons  ?     Let  them  imagine 
we're  praying. 

AviGDOR.  Very  well.  You  can  all  remain  here,  then. 
But  remember  this:  receive  their  proclamation  as  coldly 
as  possible.     No  hurrahs.     No  shouts  of  joy. 

Levi.  And  why  all  this.^ 

AviGDOR.  That's  diplomacy. 

The  Beggar.  It's  a  game  of  you  urge  me  and  I  pre- 
tend to  refuse.  Just  as  if  I  were  invited  to  a  rich  ban- 
quet, and  I  declined  absolutely  to  accept  .  .  .  [A 
trumpet  sounds  from  the  left.  The  crowd  rushes  to- 
wards the  sound.l 

AviGDOR.  Don't  run !     Don't  run ! 

Sossen.  Not  run,  when  the  trumpet  calls  us?  Why, 
to  stay  here  now  would  show  that  it  was  all  planned 
beforehand. 

AviGDOR  [with  a  gesture  of  scornl.  Bah! 

The  Beggar  [shrugging  his  shoulders].  Bah! 

Reb  Joseph  [enters  from  the  right].  What's  the 
trumpeting  about?  Meshulem  is  sleeping,  and  I  was 
absorbed  in  a  very  deep  problem,  when  .  .  . 

AviGDOR.  The  king's  messengers  are  coming. 

Reb  Joseph.  Then  I  can  go  back  to  my  work.  What 
are  they  to  me?  I'll  not  return  to  Illyria.  Christian  is 
Christian,  and  Jew  is  Jew;  they'll  never  cease  their  per- 
secution of  us. 

AviGDOR  [impatiently].  Yes,  yes.  I  know  your  no- 
tions well. 

Reb  Joseph.  A  pity  you  don't  share  them.  Yes,  I'm 
going  right  back  to  my  work.  And  I  rejoice  that  I'll 
soon  be  in  a  country  where  I  can  have  my  holy  Talmud 
once  again.  Oh,  it  will  be  like  a  light  breaking  through 
the  darkness.  You  can't  imagine  how  useful  the  volume 
on  Idolatry  would  be  for  this  problem  that  I'm  working 


Act  III]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  221 

on  now.  It's  about  a  priest  who  became  a  Christian  and 
then  returned  to  the  Jewish  faith. —  A  weighty  matter. 
lExit  to  the  right.  As  he  goes  out,  the  crowd  comes 
fiocking  back  to  the  stage  from  the  left.  Then  comes 
Count  de  Guesclin,  followed  by  a  trumpeter.  The 
Count  holds  in  his  hand  a  parchment  scroll.  The 
trumpeter  holds  his  trumpet  in  his  right  hand,  and  in  his 
left  a  rolled-up  document.  He  stands  several  steps  be- 
hind the  Count,  and  prevents  the  people  from  approach- 
ing too  near  to  his  master.  The  crowd  forms  a  semi- 
circle about  them.  Avigdor,  Sossen  and  Reb  Jehiel 
stand  at  the  rear.  Hillel  and  Rachel,  tense  with  ex- 
citement, take  up  their  position  near  Avigdor's  tent. 
Leah  steals  away  from  the  crowd  towards  the  cliff,  and 
stops  not  far  from  Penini.] 

Hillel  [watching  Leah].   I  can't  understand  it! 

The  Trumpeter  [raises  his  instrument  to  his  lips  and 
sounds  three  flourishes]. 

Count  de  Guesclin  [when  the  sounds  of  the  trumpet 
have  died  away"].  My  Jewish  friends,  I  come  to  you  with 
great  news. 

The  Beggar  [sighing].  Yes.     Indeed. 

Voices.  Sh!     Quiet! 

Count  de  Guesclin.  King  Philip  is  dead.  .  .  . 
[Pauses,  so  as  to  see  what  effect  this  news  has  upon  his 
hearers.  The  crowd  is  unmoved;  not  a  sound  is  uttered.] 
He  met  with  an  accident  while  out  hunting  and  died.  .  .  . 
[Pauses  again.] 

The  Beggar.  Blessed  be  the  Righteous  Judge! 

Blanche   [bursting  into  tears].  The  handsome  king! 

A  Group  of  Children  [begin  to  sing  and  dance  in  a 
ring].  Tra-la-la  !  Tra-la-la  !  [They  are  quickly  hushed 
by  some  of  their  elders.] 

Count  de  Guesclin   [smiling  indulgently].  Children 


223  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  III 

can't  hide  their  feelings.  .  .  .  Dance,  my  little  ones,  and 
make  your  fathers  and  mothers  dance  with  you.  There's 
no  reason  for  you  to  bemoan  King  Philip's  death. 
Dance  with  all  the  more  zest  because  his  son,  the  noble 
Crown  Prince  Louis,  succeeds  him  to  the  throne. 

The    Children    [resume    their    dancing'].  Tra-la-la! 
Tra-la-la !     The  king  is  calling  us  back  to  Illyria ! 
Voices.  Hush!     Hush! 

Count  de  Guesclin.  What!  The  children  know  it? 
Then  they've  spared  me  the  trouble  of  telling  it  to  you. 
Yes,  King  Louis  calls  you  all  back  to  Illyria. 

The  Children  [dancing].  Tra-la-la!  Tra-la-la! 
The  King  calls  us  back  to  Il-lyr-i-a !  [  The  crowd  greets 
his  words  without  a  sound  or  a  motion.] 

Count  de  Guesclin.  What?  You  are  silent?  You 
don't  jump  for  joy?  You  stand  unmoved  and  don't  join 
your  children  in  their  dance?  Perhaps  you  don't  be- 
lieve me?  Here,  here  is  the  king's  proclamation  to  you, 
signed  by  himself  and  sealed  with  his  signet-ring.  [Mo- 
tions to  his  trumpeter,  who  blows  three  times,  as  before. 
The  Count  after  the  sounds  of  the  trumpet  have  died 
away,  reads  in  a  loud  voice.] 

"  I,  Louis  the  Tenth,  by  the  grace  of  God  King  of 
Illyria,  to  you,  my  Jewish  subjects:  It  was  the  will 
of  God  to  call  unto  Himself  my  lamented  father, 
King  Philip  the  Fourth,  and  to  place  me  upon  his 
throne.  And  because  I  was  never  in  accord  with 
my  father  of  blessed  memory  in  his  decree  that  you 
be  driven  forth  beyond  the  borders  of  our  beloved 
Illyria,  I  hasten,  as  soon  as  God  has  placed  the 
scepter  in  my  hand,  to  revoke  this  harsh  and  unjust 
decree." 
[Pauses  and  looks  upon  the  faces  of  his  hearers.] 
The  Crowd  [stands  motionless,  as  if  petrified]. 


Act  III]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  223 

Count  de  Guesclin   [shrugs  his  shoulders  and  con- 
tinues to  read,  as  if  counting  each  word]. 

"  You  are  welcome  to  be  my  subjects,  and  the  gates 
of  Illyria  are  open  to  you,  with  every  privilege  you 
formerly  enjoyed.  ..."  [Murmurs  of  happiness 
from  the  crowd.] 

Blanche.  The  gracious  king! 

The  Beggar.  —  The  privilege,  for  example,  of  wear- 
ing a  yellow  patch. 

Count  de  Guesclin  [looks  sternly  in  the  direction  of 
The  Beggar's  voice]. 

Voices.  Shh!     None  of  that! 

Count  de  Guesclin  [resuming  his  reading]. 

"  With  every  privilege  you  formerly  enjoyed.  .  .  ." 

The  Beggar.  I've  heard  that  already. 

Voices.  Shh!     Quiet!     The  impudence  of  the  man! 

Count  de  Guesclin. 

"  You  will  give  me  your  oath  of  allegiance,  and  I 
know  that  I  shall  have  in  you  most  loyal  subjects. 
On  my  side  you  have  my  royal  promise  that  I  will 
give  to  you  and  your  children  and  all  your  property 
my  royal  protection,  so  long  as  the  Lord  grants  me 
to  reign  over  my  realm.  As  proof  of  my  good  will 
towards  you,  know  that  one  of  my  first  acts  was  to 
punish  the  ministers  who  led  my  father  astray  by 
their  evil  counsel  against  you,  and  I  have  made  pro- 
vision to  support  those  of  you  who  have  suffered 
most  from  the  decree  of  exile  with  food  and  clothing 
for  a  whole  year.  Subscribed  to  by  my  own  hand 
and  sealed  with  the  royal  seal."  [With  fervor.] 
"  Louis  the  Tenth,  King  of  Illyria."  [Looks  about 
him.  The  crowd  stand  unmoved,  as  before.  By  this 
time  Count  de  Guesclin  is  thoroughly  astonished.] 
What?     You  still  say  nothing?     No  shouts  of  joy,  no 


224  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  IH 

glad  outcry,  no  faces  beaming  with  happiness  ?  — 
Where  are  your  leaders?  Where  is  the  noble  Penini? 
Is  the  poor  man  ill,  perhaps? —  Where  is  the  Rabbi? 
[AviGDOR,  SossEN  and  Reb  Jehiel  push  their  way 
through  the  crowd  and  come  before  the  Count.] 
Ah,  here  comes  Monsieur  de  Corbeille.  Greetings, 
friend ! 

AviGDOR  [bowing^.  Greetings,  noble  Count  de  Gues- 
clin ! 

Count  de  Guesclin.  You  can  tell  me,  perhaps,  why 
you  all  receive  my  news  so  coldly.  Are  you  not  happy 
at  the  king's  favor?  Are  you  not  glad  to  return  to 
Illyria?  Or  do  you  still  hesitate  to  believe  me?  Here, 
take  the  document;  read  it  yourself  and  be  assured. 
[Hands  the  parchment  to  Avigdor.] 

AviGDOR  [acknorvledges  the  parchment  with  a  bow'\. 
We  have  not  yet  recovered  from  our  fright,  noble  Count. 

Count  de  Guesclin.  Yes,  yes.  I  can  understand 
that.     Yet  — 

AviGDOR.  And  we  must  discuss  the  proposal. 

Count  de  Guesclin.  Discuss  it?  Then  you  have  al- 
ready discovered  a  new  home? 

AviGDOR.  We  have  re-discovered  our  old  one. 

Rachel   [softly].  Hillel,  do  you  hear? 

HiLLEL.   Diplomacy.     Nothing  more. 

Count  de  Guesclin  [looking  sharply  at  Avigdor, 
and  trying  to  understand].  I  don't  understand  your 
words. 

AviGDOR.  Not  always  have  we  been  dwellers  in 
strange  lands,  noble  Count.  Not  always  have  we  been  in 
exile.     Long,  long  ago  Israel  had  its  own  land. 

Count  de  Guesclin.  Is  Illyria,  then,  a  strange  land 
to  you? 

AviGDOR.  We  were  driven  from  Illyria  like  strangers. 


Act  III]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  •  225 

Count  de  Guesclin.  The  same  thing  happened  to 
you  in  your  ancient  land. 

AviGDOR.  But  then  we  were  conquered  in  man-to-man 
conflict;  Illyria  kicked  us  out  as  if  we  were  nothing  but 
dogs. 

Rachel  [as  before^.  Doesn't  he  speak  the  truth,  Hil- 
lel? 

HiLLEL.  And  yet  .  .  . 

Count  de  Guesclin.  Yes,  it  was  a  grievous  wrong 
against  you.  But  now  the  king  desires  to  right  that 
wrong.  How  deep  that  desire  is  you  may  judge  when  I 
tell  you  that  he  has  sent  you  horses  and  wagons. 

Voices   [with  glad  shoutl.  Horses  and  wagons?! 

Count  de  Guesclin.  Yes,  horses  and  wagons,  to 
lighten  your  homeward  return.  [A  great  stir  among 
the  people.  Shouts  of  joy. —  The  people  have  forgot- 
ten their  role.  The  children  begin  to  dance  and  the 
older  folk  join  them.] 

Hillel  [to  Rachel].  There!     Do  you  see  now? 

Count  de  Guesclin.  At  last!  The  horses  and 
wagons  have  overridden  all  your  objections.  Or  do  you 
want  to  deliberate  further? 

The  Beggar  [in  a  lorn  voice,  to  Avigdor].  Horses 
and  wagons  and  diplomacy ! 

Avigdor.  The  voice  of  the  people  is  the  voice  of  God. 
Blessed  be  the  Lord  and  our  gracious  king,  henceforth 
and  forever.  [The  people's  rejoicing  increases.]  But 
we  must  —  [Avigdor,  Sossen,  Reb  Jehiel,  Count  de 
Guesclin  and  several  other  men  step  aside  to  the  left 
and  engage  in  earnest  conversation.] 

Penini  [gazes  at  the  dancing,  bustling  crowd,  then 
towards  Rachel,  and  begins  to  descend  the  cliff]. 

Rachel  [to  Hillel].  My  father  has  something  to 
say  to  the  people !     His  eyes  are  calling  me !     Hillel ! 


2^6  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  HI 

HiLLEL.  Wait.  Let  him  tell  you  what  he  wants. 
But  you  see  the  people  —  words  will  accomplish  noth- 
ing.    Only  a  miracle  can  move  them  now. 

Penini  Ihe  has  reached  the  bottom  of  the  cliff.  The 
crowd  notices  him,  and  there  is  a  sudden  hush.  All  eyes 
are  turned  upon  him,  and  people  makg  way  for  him  in 
deep  respect.  He  walks  slowly,  solemnly,  his  gaze  fixed 
upon  Rachel]. 

Leah   \^soon  appears  a  few  paces  behind  Penini]. 

Count  de  Guesclin.  This  is  the  noble  Penini. — 
Heavens !  How  they  have  disfigured  him !  \_Ap- 
proaches  Penini.]  Poor,  unfortunate  friend^  accept  my 
greetings.      [Offers  Penini  his  hand.'] 

Penini   [refuses  to  notice  him  and  walks  on]. 

Count  de  Guesclin  [looks  around,  seeking  an  ex- 
planation for  the  rebuff].  How  now?  What  can  this 
mean.'' —  Here  Menahem  Penini,  I  have  a  letter 
of  pardon  from  the  king.  [Takes  the  parchment  from 
the  trumpeter.] 

The  Beggar.  And  where's  a  note  from  the  king  for 
me? 

Voices.  Sh-h!     Quiet!     Shut  his  mouth  for  him! 

Count  de  Guesclin  [offering  the  document  to  Pe- 
nini]. He  cannot  restore  your  tongue  to  you,  nor  can 
he  wipe  out  the  memory  of  your  sufferings,  but  .  .  . 

Penini  [looks  at  him  blankly,  takes  the  parchment, 
crumples  it  up,  throws  it  to  the  ground  and  walks  on]. 

Voices.  Oh !     The  letter !     The  royal  letter ! 

Count  de  Guesclin.  The  king's  letter !  —  You  are 
ill.  That  will  be  your  excuse.  Well,  I  have  delivered 
my  message  and  now  I  can  ride  back  to  the  Court. 
Good-by  to  all  of  you.  [He  motions  to  the  trumpeter, 
and  both  go  off  to  the  left.] 


Act  III]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  327 

AviGDOR  [following  him].  Let  not  the  act  of  one  who 
has  suffered  so  terribly  be  set  against  us.  [There  is  a 
great  commotion.  Cries  of  woe.  Wringing  of  hands. 
Al  pursue  Count  de  Guesclin.] 

Penini  [goes  over  to  RacheLj  looks  at  her  mutely, 
penetratingly'\. 

Rachel  [at  a  loss}.  Father!  WTiat  —  shall  —  I  — 
do? 

Penini.  — peak!     [Speak.] 

Rachel  [despairingly'].  I  don't  know  what  to  say! 
My  heart  is  heavy,  my  mind  is  in  confusion  —  Father, 
they  will  all  return  to  Illyria. 

Penini   [nodding  towards  Hillel].  He! 

Rachel  [softly,  embarrassed].  Words  will  do  noth- 
ing.    Only  a  miracle  can  help ! 

Penini  [takes  from  a  pocket  a  parchment  and  gives  it 
to  her]. 

Rachel  [takes  it  with  trembling  hands  and  looks 
through  it].  I  am  to  tell  them  your  dreams, —  your 
visions.''     Will  they  believe  me? 

Penini  [sternly,  snatching  the  parchment  from  her]. 
-ot  be-ieve  me?!  [Avigdor,  followed  by  the  people, 
returns.] 

AviGDOR  [angrily,  to  Penini].  Wliat  did  you  do  that 
for?  Do  you  want  to  pull  down  the  wrath  of  the  king 
upon  us? 

Penini   [continues  to  gaze  sternly  upon  Rachel]. 

Sossen.  The  idea!  To  insult  the  word  of  a  king! 
That's  forbidden  even  in  the  Scriptures. 

Reb  Jehiel.  And  right  before  the  eyes  of  the  Count! 

Voices.  Oh!     Oh!     For  shame! 

AviGDOR.  He  left  in  great  wrath,  red  with  anger. 

Voices.  Woe  is  us!     Woe  is  us! 


228  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  HI 

AviGDOR.  You  want  to  force  us  to  follow  you  ? 

Penini  [nods  "  yes "  emphatically.  Cries  out 
loudly^.  — es!      [Yes.] 

AviGDOR  [/urioM*].  What!  You  would  force  us, 
would  you  ?  How  dare  you  presume  such  a  thing !  Are 
you  appohited  by  God? 

Penini   [a*  before].  — es ! 

AviGDOR.  What.''  You  dare  say  yes?  Would  you 
have  us  believe  that  you're  the  Messiah  ? 

Penini  [with  a  slow,  firm  gesture  he  gives  his  parch- 
ment to  Avigdor]. 

Leah  [with  a  sudden  outcry].  He  is  the  Messiah! 
[Several  women  scream  in  fright.] 

Penini  [shudders,  takes  a  step  forward  and  raises  Ms 
eyes  to  heaven].  Go-ok!      [God!] 

AviGDOR   [gapes  in  stupefaction]. 

The  Blind  Man  [with  a  cry  of  terror^.  Who  speaks 
there?     Who  made  that  cry? 

Rachel  [seizing  Hillel's  arm  with  both  hands]. 
A  miracle,  Hillel !      A  miracle  ! 

Leah  [louder  than  before].  He  is  the  Messiah! 
[The  people  recoil  from  Penini.  The  women  and  the 
children  begin  to  cry.] 

The  Blind  Man  [as  before].  Through  whom  has 
God  revealed  this  to  us? 

Voices.   The  mad  woman  !     Tlie  crazy  woman  ! 

Rachel  [with  a  cry  of  exaltation].  God  speaks  to  us 
through  a  wandering  spirit ! 

Hillel    [as  if  to  himself].  A  miracle!     A  miracle! 

Leah.  He  is  the  Messiah! 

The  Blind  Man  [ecstatically].  Oh,  to  be  able  to 
see  once  again !  I  want  to  look  upon  him !  Great  God, 
I  want  to  look  upon  your  Messiah !  Give  me  my  eyes ! 
Let  me  have  my  sight  again !      [SinJcs  to  his  knees.     The 


Act  III]  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  229 

people,  inspired  hy  him,  liJcexvise  fall  upon  their  knees.'] 

Blanche  [becomes  hysterical.  She  tears  her  hair 
and  beats  her  breasts.  The  Beggar  hneels.  Avigdor, 
SossEN  and  Reb  Jehiel,  are  at  the  left.  Rachel  and 
HiLLEL  to  the  right.     Leah  at  the  rear]. 

Penini  [raises  his  hands  to  Heaven  and  utters  cries 
xchose  joy  is  mingled  with  tears], 

Rachel  [agitated,  confused].  God  speaks  to  us 
through  a  wandering  spirit !  The  Messiah  stands  here 
before  you !  Follow  him  !  Listen^  my  pcojole !  While 
my  father  lay  in  his  dungeon,  he  beheld  a  vision.  As  he 
lay  there  waiting  for  death,  he  heard  a  voice.  It  was 
the  voice  of  God.  God  revealed  Himself  to  him,  to  His 
chosen  one.  And  the  Lord  said  to  him  .  .  .  [Stops 
suddenly  as  if  hypnotized,  her  eyes  staring  at  Leah. 
The  croxvd  looks  at  her  in  amazement,  then  follows  the 
direction  of  her  glances.  Penini  drops  his  hands  and 
does  the  same.  Leah,  her  eyes  burning  with  the  fire  of 
iyisanity,  begins  to  go  from  one  person  to  another.] 

Leah  [as  she  walks  along].  The  Messiah!  The  Mes- 
siah !  The  Messiah !  .  .  .  [Stops  before  the  blind 
man].  You  are  the  Messiah!  You  are  the  Messiah! 
Ha-ha-ha !  .  .  .  You  are  the  Messiah !  You  are  the 
Messiah ! 

The  Blind  Man.  Who's  poking  fun  here? 

Leah.  Ha-ha-ha!  [To  The  Beggar.]  You  are  the 
Messiah  !     You  are  the  Messiah  ! 

The   Beggar.  ^^Tiat.^     Now  it's  l> 

Leah.  You,  you,  you.  .  .  .  [The  people  begin  to  rise 
from  their  knees.] 

The  Beggar.  And  who  else  is  Messiali.''  [Pointing 
to  Blanche.]      She,  perhaps.'' 

Leah.  She,  she,  she.  .  .  .  She  is  the  Messiali ! 
[There   is   an  explosion  of  laughter.]      Ha-ha-ha.   .  .  . 


230  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  [Act  HI 

[She  begins  to  dance  in  a  circle.'\  The  Messiah!  The 
Messiah!     The  Messiah! 

Penini   [turns  his  gaze  to  Rachel]. 

Rachel  [going  over  to  Hillel,  and  leaning  her  head 
upon  his  shoulders.  She  is  crushed].  The  miracle  has 
vanished.     They're  laughing.     I'll  speak  no  more. 

Penini  [clutches  his  throat  as  if  he  were  choking. 
He  utters  several  shrieks  of  deep  despair,  and  suddenly, 
•with  a  cry  of  "  Go-ok!  "  [God!]  he  makes  a  dash  to  the 
cliff,  runs  to  the  top,  and  from  there  throws  himself  into 
the  sea]. 

Rachel  [horror-struck,  advancing  a  few  steps]. 
Father!  [Falls  into  Hillel's  arms.  The  crowd  look 
with  terror  into  the  sea  where  Penini  has  disappeared.] 

Leah  [still  dancing].  The  Messiah!  The  Messiah! 
The  Messiah! 

SLOW  curtain 


AUTHOR'S  NOTES  TO  "  THE  DUMB  MESSIAH  " 

The  Characters,  the  Plot  and  the  Country 

All  the  persons  of  my  drama  are  imaginary  figures, — 
children  of  my  fancy.  This  is  true  likewise  of  the  whole 
story  of  the  dumb  Messiah. 

By  the  words  "  in  the  time  of  a  great  expulsion  of  the 
Jews,"  however,  is  meant  the  banishment  of  all  Jews 
from  France  in  the  year  1306,  during  the  reign  of  Philip 
IV,  known  also  as  Philip  the  Fair;  but  since  the  action 
never  took  place  in  France,  and  the  characters  never 
dwelt  in  that  country,  I  chose  as  background  the  land  of 
Illyria,  where  many  poets  before  me  have  set  the  chil- 
dren of  their  fancy. 

The  Expulsion  and  the  Return  in  History 


(See  "  History  of  the  Jews,"  *  by  Professor  H.  Graetz, 
Vol.  IV,  Chapter  II,  pages  46-53.) 

"  Philip  IV,  le  Bel,  at  that  time  the  king  of  France, 
suddenly  issued  a  secret  order  (21st  June,  1306)  im- 
posing the  strictest  silence,  to  the  higher  and  lower  offi- 
cials throughout  the  kingdom,  to  put  all  the  Jews  of 
France  under  arrest  on  one  and  the  same  day,  without 
warning  of  any  kind.     Before  the  Jews  had  fully  recov- 

*  I  hare  given  the  author's  references  to  Graetz  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  English  version,  interpolating  a  few  passages 
which  do  not  occur  in  that  translation. —  Tr. 

231 


232  AUTHOR'S  NOTE 

ered  from  fasting  on  the  Day  of  Lamentation  in  remem- 
brance of  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  and  as  they  were 
about  to  begin  their  daily  business,  the  constables  and 
jailers  appeared,  laid  hands  upon  them,  and  dragged 
young  and  old,  women  and  children,  to  prison.      (10th  Ab 

22nd  July.)      There  they  were  told  that  they  had 

to  quit  the  country  within  the  space  of  a  month,  leaving 
behind  their  goods  and  the  debts  owing  to  them.  Who- 
ever was  found  in  France  after  that  time  was  liable  to 
the  penalty  of  death.  .  .  .  The  king  wanted  to  replenish 
his  coffers  from  the  property  of  the  Jews.  .  .  .  That  he 
aimed  at  the  possessions  of  the  Jews  was  shown  by  his 
relentless  plundering.  The  officials  left  the  unhappy 
Jews  nothing  beyond  the  clothes  they  wore,  and  to  every 
one,  no  matter  how  wealthy  he  had  previously  been,  not 
more  than  seemed  necessary  for  a  day's  living.  (12 
gros  Tournois)  Wagonfuls  of  the  property  of  the 
Jews,  gold,  silver  and  precious  stones,  were  transported 
to  the  king;  and  less  valuable  objects  were  sold  at  a 
ridiculously  low  price. 

".  .  .  The  expatriated  Jews  dispersed  in  all  parts  of 
the  world;  many  traveled  to  Palestine.  But  the  ma- 
jority remained  as  near  as  possible  to  the  French  bor- 
ders. .  .  .  Their  intention  was  to  wait  for  a  favorable 
change  of  fortune  which  would  put  an  end  to  their  dis- 
persion and  permit  them  to  return  to  the  land  of  their 
birth.  .  .  . 

".  .  .  Louis  X  had  recalled  them  nine  years  after  their 
banishment  (1315).     The  king,  himself  seized  by  a  desire  . 

to  abrogate  the  ordinances  of  his  father  and  indict  his  1 

counsellors,   had  been   solicited   by   the   people   and   the  *, 

nobility,  who  could  not  do  without  the  Jews,  to  readmit  i^ 

them  into  France.     He  accordingly  entered  into  nego-  ft 

tiations  with  them  in  reference  to  their  return.     But  the 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE  233 

Jews  did  not  accept  his  proposal  without  deliberation,  for 
they  well  knew  the  inconstancy  of  the  French  kings,  and 
the  fanatical  hatred  of  the  clergymen  against  them. 
They  hesitated  at  first,  and  then  submitted  their  con- 
ditions." 

II 

(From  the  book  "  Shebet  Jehuda,"  chapters  21  and 
24.) 

"  In  the  year  5046  of  the  creation  of  the  world  there 
ascended  to  the  throne  a  cruel  monarch  called  Philip, 
son  of  Philip.  He  banished  all  the  Jews  from  his  king- 
dom, treating  them  with  extreme  cruelty,  despoiling  them 
of  their  silver  and  gold  and  all  other  property  of  what- 
ever nature,  so  that  they  were  cast  forth  robbed  of 
everything.  .  .  . 

"  In  the  year  5055  that  same  king  Philip  who  had  ban- 
ished them  went  hunting  and  beheld  a  stag  running  be- 
fore him.  He  gave  chase  upon  horseback,  galloping  at 
full  speed.  There  lay  in  his  path,  however,  a  deep 
ditch,  into  which  fell  both  he  and  his  horse;  he  broke  his 
neck  and  died,  and  all  men  knew  that  his  cruelty  to  the 
Jews  had  been  the  cause  of  his  death.  .  .  .  To  this 
terrible  king  there  succeeded  his  son,  who  proved  to  be 
a  good-hearted  ruler,  and  a  lover  of  justice  and  right- 
eousness. When  he  saw  the  fate  that  had  overtaken  his 
father  he  sent  a  messenger  to  the  Jews  with  an  invitation 
to  return  to  their  cities  in  the  utmost  confidence;  he 
promised  to  guard  them  as  the  apple  of  his  eye.  .  .  . 
'  But,'  questioned  some  among  the  Jews,  '  even  if  the 
king  promises  security,  how  shall  we  be  able  to  defend 
ourselves  if  the  people  should  rise  against  us .'' '  .  .  . 
After  a  short  while,  however,  they  returned,  saying,  *  Let 
us  go  back  to  the  land  of  our  birth,  for  she  is  our  mother- 


234  AUTHOR'S  NOTE 

land,  and  the  king  is  a  good  and  just  ruler,  and  that 
which  he  promises  he  keeps.'  And  thus  they  returned 
to  their  provinces.  On  the  way,  however,  they  were  be- 
fallen by  highwaymen  and  robbed.  .  .  .  Whereupon  the 
king  ordered  the  Jews  to  be  provided  with  clothes  and 
food  for  an  entire  year.  .  .  ." 

A  Few  Historical  Details 

(See  Graetz,  op.  cit..  Vol.  IV,  Chap.  XI,  pages  352- 
353.) 

".  .  .  The  graves  of  their  forefathers  were  dearer  to 
them  than  all  besides,  and  from  these  they  found  parting 
hardest.  The  thought  of  these  graves  filled  them  with 
deepest  grief.  .  .  .  The  Jews  of  Segovia  assembled  three 
days  before  their  exodus  around  the  graves  of  their  fore- 
fathers. .  .  .  They  tore  up  many  of  the  tombstones  to 
bear  them  away  as  memorial  relics.  .  .  .  Many  rabbis 
permitted  women  and  children  to  sing,  and  caused  pipers 
and  drummers  to  go  before,  making  lively  music,  so  that 
for  a  while  the  wanderers  should  forget  their  gnawing 
grief. 


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